Birds of a Feather
by chicpea
Summary: Sookie works in antiquities, keeping an eye out for artifacts that humans really shouldn't get their hands on. Sheriff Northman is one of the few aware of her other talent. He's profited from leaving her alone, until he's forced to seek her help. SPOV.
1. If It Ain't Chickens, It's Vampires

Hi folks. I thought I'd try writing the supe characters, and hopefully something more plot driven. I hope you like it. Characters and setting are owned by the much adored Charlaine Harris. I just can't get enough of them. This story is being beta'd by the talented and kind FiniteAnarchy.

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Chapter 1 - If it Ain't Chickens, It's Vampires

I perched at my bench, slowly working my way through yet another pile of arrowheads. Ask an anthropologist, or anyone in a related field. They'll give you my same wry smirk. These are something we see a _lot_ of. Clean, polish, catalog. These are Caddoan spearheads and arrowheads, eight hundred fifty years old or so. They're from right here in Northern Louisiana, my neck of the woods. They came in with some other objects, bits of pottery, a couple of stone axe blades. It's the pottery that's always the most interesting to me, especially the ornamental pieces. Archaic art is very fascinating, and very telling. There's little decorative about this cache, though. This stuff had been residing in an attic for untold many years, having been handed down since the frontier days. Any hope of searching the site is long gone, always a disappointment. Still, I've got to go through everything quite carefully. Every once in a while you find something that shouldn't be there, as I did now.

I pulled another arrowhead from the box without looking, gasping as I felt it slice into my finger, right through the thin cloth glove I was wearing. Darn it. I glanced down at what I was holding. Lava glass. Unchipped. Veined with, unless I'm much mistaken, silver. Elf-shot.

Lovely.

I dropped the piece in disgust and pushed myself up from my stool, retreating to the sink. I stripped my glove off to minister to my bleeding finger. It wasn't bad. A Band-Aid and some Neosporin and it would be gone in a couple of days. I've always healed well. I flipped the exhaust fan on and dropped the bloodied glove on a large watch glass, doused it with alcohol, and set fire to it. As it burned I pealed the other glove off and tossed it in the garbage. Blood is not an aroma you want lingering in the air.

This was all less of an issue before the vamps came out. Not the blood, that's always been an issue, but the artifacts. Now that the spark of the supernatural had been ignited in the public consciousness, suddenly there's a lot more speculation about what other tales of yore could be based in fact. Thanks, vampires. The two-natured; the shape-shifters and other wereanimals (of which the werewolves, or Weres with a capital W, are most numerous), are about to do the same. That is only going to make it harder. The fae, and that covers a whole variety of the rest of us, are staying secret. Same thing with the witches, who are not to be confused with Wiccans. It comes down to the magic. As a general rule, humans and magic are a bad combination. Vamps and weres are magical beings in their own rights, but the extent to which they can exert that influence on others is pretty limited; for the most part, pretty physical and for that matter, pretty gory. Vampires do have that bit of glamour, and sometimes other gifts, but the scope of their use is very small, and of course, they're still keeping _some_ secrets.

I say, "us," in reference to the fae, but I myself am basically human. So are witches, but they, like me, straddle the two worlds. They guard their secrets well and have a very rigid infrastructure, or so I'm told. On the whole, they're much more students of magic than practitioners of it, but they have their uses to the other supes, if not the other humans. The fae don't mix as much. They have their own worlds. Someday, probably soon, more of those worlds will be shut off entirely. The human world is not what it was. Things were very different even two hundred years ago. Now, there are far fewer places left with natural magic; far fewer places left untouched and unsullied. And of course, there's the iron. Fae and iron are like vamps or weres and silver. The human desire to start ripping it out of the earth and putting it to their employ definitely marked the beginning of the decline. Three millenia's gradual fading was hastened exponentially by the Industrial Revolution.

I'm sorry. If you haven't picked up on it, I'm an archaeologist. Well, sort of. Technically. I can get a little hung up on the broad history.

I don't go out in the field very much. I do not have the skills that would make me useful there, such as making people forget they ever found the things they found. I've tried, but I can't make it work. I've got some persuasion, but I can't do the full on glamour which is sometimes necessary. I'm good for picking out those who need to be glamoured though. My real "gift" isn't even natural, it was given. Telepathy. Just for reference, _worst gift ever_. Demons, the next time you get invited to a Christening, bear in mind that you never go wrong with the classics. Health, beauty, charm. Cripes, even a savings bond.

Most of the time I just work here, analyzing artifacts in the lab I think of as belonging to me. This is an auction house. As far as the bulk of the human population is concerned, that's all we are. As far as the supes are concerned, we're a stop-gap. That's my job; making sure those things that humans shouldn't have stay out of human hands. Well that, and then of course making sure that anything particularly valuable is made available to the right buyers. When I'm not down here in the dungeon (it has to be underground for the sake of light and climate control), then I'm consulting on other antiquities upstairs, or doing research. It's interesting work, and it's quiet.

As a telepath, quiet is a blessed thing to me. I never had it growing up. It used to be that I couldn't even permit myself to have it much. Any more than a couple of days without exposure to many people and I'd be back to rebuilding my shields from scratch in misery and a blinding headache. I've gotten a lot better. My sponsor (think godparent), and the gift-giver himself, Desmond Cataliades, started giving me proper tutelage about my condition just after high school. I guess I could blame him for not showing up sooner, but I don't. What's a decade here or there to a being that lives for hundreds of years? High school would have been a lot better if he'd managed to make himself known earlier, but at least I got college. That had only been the start of my education. The supe world is a daunting place, and unfortunately, I'm a part of it. My involvement is as limited and controlled as I and Mr. Cataliades and my great-grandfather Niall can make it.

I grabbed a new set of gloves (I have dozens) and returned to the bench. I showed a lot more care picking up the arrowhead the second time around. Lava glass, or fire glass. Obsidian. Not exactly native to Louisiana. Thankfully, it's dirty. I pulled open a drawer to my left and rifled through the scads of arrowheads inside until I found one of dark flint, nearly the same shape, that would replace it in the collection. This is dishonest, but there is no alternative. Obsidian has showed up in excavation sites from around here once before, and it caused a huge stir in the academic community. (Naturally, 'huge stir' when applied to the annals of academia is a relative term.) So the anthropologists now purport that the indigenous peoples of the Mississippi Delta had trade routes all the way down to the Pacific Coasts of Mexico and Guatemala. Unlikely. But what am I going to do, publish a paper saying, "No, see, those are elf-arrows, made in Faery?" I'm the one who'd be laughed at. Ah well. This is the burden of truth.

I set my find aside and grabbed a pair of forceps, quickly sorting through the rest of the small collection. There was a second obsidian piece, though broken, which I also put aside. A quick comparison indicated two separate makers. Unsurprising really. Elves like to hunt together, and I suppose back then there would have been plenty more game. Panthers and bears maybe. I can see why this particular hoard of weapons had been stockpiled, at least. These were some long dead man's greatest treasures. How had he come upon the arrowheads? The luckless hunter out in the woods could have come across the half-consumed carcass of some creature or other. Had he seen the elves? That would have scared the bejesus out of the poor guy...but I suppose back then, they knew a lot better that the monsters are real.

It was coming on evening. I do have a clock on the wall down here, in lieu of actual windows. I didn't need to look up at it to know that the work day was almost done. I could feel fewer brains upstairs. I'm sure if I'd cast out, the ones I found would have been thinking of packing up for the night. It was probably already dark out, or getting there quick. I don't care for winter very much. I'm a person of the sunshine. Since I wasn't missing any of it at that point, I got back to work. I carry on pretty much on my own down here. It was a while later before I sensed anyone in my proximity, and the brain that was approaching wasn't one to welcome.

"Who's there?" I demanded loudly.

The creature I'd sensed in the hall outside my lab was suddenly inside the doorway. Vampire. Sheriff. We had met on two occasions.

"Sheriff Eric Northman," he announced himself.

I dipped my head in greeting, the polite and expected courtesy. As I did, my eyes darted to the silver veined arrowhead. It wasn't quite in arm's reach at that point. It wouldn't kill him anyway, but it would probably sting. If he meant to harm me, I could get away while he was flailing, maybe.

He probably wasn't here to harm me.

He'd be really stupid to do that here, and by all accounts, he's not stupid. He's pretty enough to get away with being stupid though, but then they all are, aren't they?

"Good evening, Sheriff," I said stiffly. Yeah, it was definitely dark outside.

"Good evening, Miss Stackhouse," he replied, saying nothing more. His eyes shifted around the room, taking in the surroundings. He was now blocking the only exit.

"What brings you here tonight?" I asked when he persisted in silence. I went ahead and reached for my only hope of a weapon with what I judged was nonchalance. I was just keeping a tidy workspace, see?

"Your neck would be broken before you could fasten your fingers around that object to defend yourself, if that were my intention," he observed. Ignoring that.

"And again, that intention is...?"

"I require your assistance."

"Your daytime person can schedule an appointment with us upstairs. How did you even get in here? I am sure the guard didn't let you in."

"The guard is a human." He cocked his head to the side as he said it. You just used your glamour on him and walked on in. "It is not a matter of items. I need _your_ assistance."

"I'm not sure what you mean," I hedged.

"You know very well what I mean." I felt it, the brush against my mind. Then again, stronger. I found myself literally shaking my head, as if that would rid me of the icy tickling.

"That doesn't work on me," I snapped. "And you know better than to try."

"That is something we will need to discuss at a later date, Miss Stackhouse," he said, with the faintest of frowns that in a vampire surely indicates serious unease. "I require the use of your telepathy."

"It's not for hire," I said.

"I was not offering to pay you." He stepped slowly closer. That is deliberate. Was he trying to seem threatening or non-threatening?

"Stop," I said, holding up my hand in a "halt" gesture. You can't step back from them, they read it as weakness. Somewhat to my surprise, he did as I commanded. It gave me a little boldness so I bid him, "Explain what you mean then."

He eyed me up, taking my measure. Suddenly I felt under-dressed, though I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that matched his own. I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself and betray this feeling, fixing him instead with a level look.

"My child, Pam, is missing. She does not answer my call. I believe she has been taken by humans, though I am at a loss to understand how this could have occurred. She is strong." I knew that by "call," he didn't mean on the phone, but this wasn't adding up.

"Can't you track your blood in her?"

He frowned again. I was really unnerving this guy, I suppose. I don't claim to have a huge knowledge of vampire goings-on, but I know more than just the basics about vamps as a species. It's a lot more than they typically reveal to the public, that's for sure. "Intense photophobia and allergic reactions to silver and allium sativum." Uh-huh. It still baffles me that anyone believes that. People see what they want to see, I guess. I might have been letting him see a bit more than I wanted him to see right here, actually. As far as he knows, I am Mr. Cataliades's god-daughter. I am in the protection afforded by the man, or demon, himself, and his own general neutrality in supernatural affairs. He's got his own enemies, yes, but that's _complicated_. And none of this sheriff's business. It's my own fault he knows about my telepathy. I was glad I burned the glove, or he'd probably know a good deal more about me. I was aware of the small cut on my finger, covered in antiseptic, plastic, and cloth. I caught myself before I probed at the little wound.

"I cannot," he answered, more softly. An admission. "I can feel that she yet lives, but she is...distant. Weakened. There is something obscuring my tie to her."

"And what use would I be? How do you know that she was taken?"

"Her lover has come forward with these concerns. I believe she knows more than she is saying."

"Why don't you just give her the same treatment you gave the guy upstairs?" My tone was scathing.

"She has answered my questions unsatisfactorily." That sent a shiver down my spine.

There is another pause, and then, I hear him. This was not something that had happened before, and it startled me. I hope he didn't see that, or if he did, I hope he interpreted it some other way. He was thinking that the woman he was holding would not withstand more rigorous interrogation. I saw a flash of her in his mind, wan and frail. Young. Was it this child of his that left her this way? As if to confirm my fear, he was thinking he would torture her for the information he wanted, if he could. He was debating if he should torture me to get me to comply. There was the press of urgency and grave concern in his thoughts that didn't exactly translate to his words. Desperation. Just as abruptly, his mind was blank again, as vampire minds always have been. It was the concern I felt that gave me pause. That I heard him at all is something I would need to consider later. I'd already made one huge mistake with this person. I was not about to let on what just happened, making a second.

"What makes you think I will have more luck?" I kept the hardness in my voice, and he met it with a cold stare of his own.

"Little," he answered coolly. "Yet little is better than none. You will look at her mind as you did with the policeman's, and you will see what has occurred that she is not telling me. You will see the details she has thought are unimportant, and you will tell me."

My second meeting of the vampire Sheriff was only a few months ago. He had requested an appraisal for a centuries old knife, a human artifact, and I'd been tasked with validating its authenticity. An undercover policeman was present in his club, which is where he conducts his business. A raid that would have discovered the vampire feeding off a (more than willing) human in the bathroom and the underage humans I'd noted drinking at the bar, was imminent. I would have let all this pass as I made my own departure, were it not for the hypocritical contempt in the policeman's thoughts. The officers were targeting the vampires for the mere fact of them being vampires, and this man was right on board with that. There was the teeniest twinge about the waste of manpower here, when other crimes were taking place, but he chocked this up to the greater good. These things had shown up clearly in the man's mind and it made me furious enough to say something.

Afterwards, of course, I had some explaining to do. It was stupid and impulsive, and a huge error, as was being proven right this minute. Sheriff Northman had been paid then for my protection, and in the greater part, for his silence. As far as we knew, he had kept his word. Mr. Cataliades had made the arrangements for that. I hadn't seen the sheriff since.

I reached for my phone, barely getting it out of my pocket before it was in his hand. He was less than two feet away from me. I did step back then, involuntarily.

"I need that," I said flatly.

"Who do you intend to call?" he demanded.

"My sponsor." Plain and simple. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you without someone important knowing exactly where I'll be and with whom, you're nuts." I held my hand out, as if I fully expected him to deposit my phone in it. Or break my wrist. One of the two.

The former. I flipped the phone open and held down the number six to speed dial, which is my little joke. Six six six, number of the devil, well, the demon.

"Good evening, Miss Stackhouse," he answered. As ever, I could hear the fondness in his voice.

"Good evening, Mr. Cataliades," I smiled, in spite of the situation. If he were human maybe I would call him Uncle Desmond, but it just doesn't fit. Though there's great affection here, we have always been formal. "I am here with Sheriff Northman," I specified quickly. I retreated a few steps for the illusion of privacy. I was certain that the vampire could still hear both sides of the conversation, and Mr. Cataliades needed to be aware of that.

"You are calling from Fangtasia?" he asked, with what I knew was true curiosity. My last visit had been plenty enough for me, thank you. I've got zero interest in flirting with disaster alongside tourists and the charmingly nicknamed fang-bangers that frequent the vampire sheriff's place of business.

"No, he's come to me here at Splendide," I clarified. Splendide Auctions, International. South Eastern Regional Branch. "He is requesting my assistance as a telepath. He claims his vampire child has gone missing and he believes her human lover may know more than she is telling. He feels the situation is dire." I watched the vampire as I conveyed all this, searching for any indication that my recounting was inaccurate. The sheriff's expression stayed bland and constant. A long minute went by as Mr. Cataliades chewed over what I'd told him, presumably taking care in choosing his next words.

"We did discuss this possibility," he said finally. Eventuality, more like. We had talked about it, and there'd been no need to go on at length. It had been only a matter of time before the vampire turned up with a request, which naturally I would be obliged to agree to. The alternative was him telling his Queen about me, which would in turn make everything ever so much stickier. Since their Great Revelation, the vampires are forced to be a lot more careful about how they carry on, but they still have their ways of taking what they want, and there's no reason in the world why they wouldn't want a telepath. Lucky, lucky me.

"We did," I agree.

"Are you inclined to grant his request?" the demon asked, much more mildly than I felt was warranted.

"I am inclined to help if I can, as a show of good faith," I said carefully. "I believe he is sincere about his concern for his child," communicating to both of them why I was saying yes.

"Then I will await word from you before dawn about your luck with this endeavor," my sponsor said seriously, and the threat was clear to the sheriff as well. We hung up, and I knew he'd be contacting Niall. I tucked my phone back in my pocket and turned back to my bench, gathering up my work. There was no need to keep my eye on the vampire any more, since I'd just agreed to leave here with him. He watched silently as I put my things away. Too soon I was left without anything to busy my hands. I stripped off my gloves and retrieved my coat. Perhaps Mr. Cold-Blooded didn't find the need for one in this weather, but I certainly did.

Ready to depart, I gestured him to walk ahead so I could lock up. There's a freight elevator here, and I quickly debated whether or not this was preferable to the stairs. I figured the stairs were fine. I still let him walk in front of me. I said goodnight to the ineffectual watchman at the door as he unlocked it to let us out, apparently wholly indifferent to the presence of the unexpected vampire beside me. I was going to have to talk to Brenda tomorrow. We really need a Were on the door. They're far more difficult to glamour and they also know well enough to anticipate and therefore avoid it.

"A business like this should really have a vampire or a Were guarding it," the vampire observed as we turned the corner, now out of the current guard's earshot.

"I was just thinking the same," I answered coolly. Really, who was the mind reader here?

"I own a bodyguard service. We are considering branching out into security."

"You can contact the office during business hours to solicit. You'll want to speak with Ms. Hesterman. I'm merely an employee."

"Oh yes. Of course, Miss Stackhouse," he replies, dryly.

"Sookie," I corrected. "Do you have a car?" I glanced around as we reached the small parking lot. There sat a cherry red corvette. I didn't have to wait for him to indicate it. Who else would this belong to? He had the courtesy to get my door for me, at least. Once inside, I moved to buckle myself in. He was in the driver's seat with the door closed before I could get the clasp fastened. I don't think I'll ever be accustomed to vampire speed.

"Where are we headed?" I asked him as he backed out of the parking space.

"To Pam's house."

"You don't share a nest?" He turned completely away from the road to fix me with another hard look. I have no idea what that was about. Many vampires live in nests. Possibly even most.

"My child shares her nest with the vampires Clancy and Longshadow," he informed. Longshadow, huh? That could be a Native American name. Getting to talk with him some time would be wonderful. Of course it could just be another made up name. For example, I highly doubt this fellow riding next to me was actually called "Eric Northman" while he was alive.

"And will they be there?" I asked, not bothering to hide my trepidation.

"No. They are working at the club."

"Good," I breathed out.

"You do not like vampires," he observed.

"I like the few I've had occasion to know. I'm not stupid enough to put myself in any of y'all's path if I can help it, though."

Again he said nothing in response. Instead, he simply continued driving, perhaps too quickly, toward the city limits. My hand clasped involuntarily around the door handle as we took a particularly sharp turn at speed. I'd shut my eyes so I heard, rather than saw, his sharp intake of breath. Not that I'd been watching him.

"You smell of chemicals," he said. This guy was one heck of a conversationalist. I was glad I smelled of chemicals, rather than anything else though. I ignored the remark rather than call attention to it.

"So what were you able to get out of her? The girlfriend, I mean. When did she come to you?"

"Last night. Pam did not rise in her home. Two nights ago she was elsewhere, and did not return."

"That's it? And her nestmates?"

"What about them?"

"Have you questioned them?"

"They are not aware of where she may have gone."

"Is that usual?" I wasn't sure it was. Vampires living in nests tend to _socialize_ together.

"It is not unusual, for her," he clarified, having taken my meaning.

"And, no idea where she was going, or with whom?"

"It was her night off. I believe she was simply running errands."

Huh. It's odd to think of vampires as running their own errands. I suppose Pam, unlike the Sheriff, does not have her own daytime person to do those things. Or maybe she does, and it was something more personal? Maybe she was getting her hair styled or something. Vampires do that. I've seen it on reality television. They don't change. If their hair or nails get cut, they grow back. Same as if they get injured by most things, they heal. I look over at the vampire to my left again, who has quite long, blond hair. I wondered if he ever got it cut, for a special occasion or something. Longer is probably better than shorter, hair-wise, if you're choosing something to go into eternity with. What happens to the hair, once it is cut? Does it stay intact? If it does, some of these vampires should start donating wigs to cancer patients. That would be a great public relations move for them. Locks of Love would probably be totally on board.

We arrived at Pam's house, a normal ranch style home on a friendly-neighbor sort of street in an upper middle class development. It's not quite what you might expect, but really, most supes tend to live like normal humans. For vamps especially, blending into humanity is the habit of an un-lifetime.

"How old are you?" I ask, without really thinking.

"I was turned over a thousand years ago."

"Wow."

He didn't respond to that. I can't imagine my response is anything but typical. A thousand years of existence... and he's a small business owner and the sheriff of a minor fiefdom in a poor state. I bet he's got a million stories to tell. I realized I'd stopped walking when he did. Standing ahead of the light from her porch, his shadow stretched clear across to my own feet. He struck a terrifying figure, even in blue jeans. He is tall, probably six and a half feet, and broad, and though his face was darkened by the light coming from behind him, I could see he wore a grim expression.

"Another time," he said.

"What?"

"You want to ask me questions. Do this for me, and you may. Another time."

I nodded at that, and came up behind him as he let himself in the house. It is elegantly decorated. I followed him through to the great room, the large space lit only with a dim table lamp. I was surprised to see the same woman I saw in the flash of his thoughts sitting motionless on a rather uncomfortable looking divan sofa. She was gaunt, with an ashen face. When was the last time she'd eaten?

"You left her glamoured?" I asked, appalled. She made absolutely no acknowledgment of our presence in the room, almost as if she were catatonic.

"She was distraught. It is no different from one of your doctors issuing a sedative."

"Except you're not a doctor."

"Listen to her now," he directed.

I frowned, but crossed to the woman and sat down beside her, taking her unresisting hand in mine and pressing my other palm across her forearm. "What is her name?" I looked up at him.

"Daphne."

I let my hand stroke up and down the girl's arm gently and opened my mind to blank static. This was new. I'd never tried to read someone under this hypnosis before. I tried to push further in, through the haze. Perhaps this was not the most opportune moment to be experimenting, but I had no idea when I'd get another chance. The only clear picture I got was his eyes, just a flash, blue and cold, and then they too were gone in the fog. I shook my head, turning toward him.

"You need to release her, I cannot see through this... whatever it is that you do to their heads."

He spoke her name and for the first time she responded, lifting her eyes to meet his. Then, she dissolved into tears. I assumed this was the state in which he left her. Her small body jerked with her sobs, which were not even that loud. I pulled her into my arms then, shooting him a disapproving look that he met with indifference. At least it would not take much coaxing to make the girl think of Pam. I assumed that was who this Alice in Wonderland look-alike was. I described her to Eric just to be sure, and he nodded.

I began to whisper to Daphne as I stroked her arm soothingly, rhythmically. Words of comfort mixed with questions. When did she last see Pam? And the image of the Alice leaning down to stroke her cheek emerged, and I felt her longing. This girl was highly devoted to the sheriff's child, to an unhealthy degree. Where was she going?

"She left to get her nails painted. Daphne had offered to paint them, but Pam wanted to try a new place now open late, for vampire clientèle. She had to pick up some fliers from the printer. She told Daphne to order food for herself. Did you remember to eat, sweetie?" I asked her kindly, interrupting what I'd been conveying to the vampire. When she shook her head, I gave him another glare. He looked completely unabashed in response. Feeding his child's human is clearly not his responsibility. I asked her about the printer, and about the nail salon. I asked what else Pam had to do two nights ago. Pam had not intended on being gone long. She was going to return and they were going to have sex. I got a little uncomfortable when she started focusing on that, so I steered her back.

It was Daphne who had discovered the new nail place. Another girl she knew was also 'dating' a vampire. They'd been given fliers in the mall. I talked her through the scene again, and again. They'd been watched. She hadn't been fully aware of the man who approached her, but he'd been standing in her peripheral vision the entire time, and there was another man, taller, lighter, but out of focus. She'd barely seen him, hadn't noticed him, didn't remember.

"Daphne, do you still have that flier? We need it so that we can find Pam," I explained kindly. She'd stopped sobbing now, but she still clung to my arms. Slowly she disentangled herself and retreated upstairs.

I told Sheriff Northman about the man I'd seen; slight, white, dark-haired, muddy eyes, freckles. This man had given them the fliers, and told them to bring their vamps. She's thought nothing of it. Her friends all know she's dating a vampire. Daphne doesn't have any visible bite marks, though. I didn't let myself think too much about where they must be, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess. This guy too, had to have known who, _what_, she dated, but she hadn't recognized him. She'd barely looked in his face. She wasn't interested, neither in humans, nor men.

The sheriff confirmed that Daphne and the friend I described come to his club regularly. He had no recollection of the man.

"Do you have security tapes?" I asked.

"A liability."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, we can go ask your vamps if they've seen this guy," I started to say.

"No. We will go to this salon."

I nodded. I'd expected it. I was willing. I'm human. If they're after vamps, they won't be after me. If they're after me, or suspect me for any reason, I'll know. Daphne returned with the pink handbill. I scanned it before handing it to to the vampire and leading the girl in what I hoped was the direction of the kitchen. It was pristine and nearly bare of food. There was a case of synthetic blood in the refrigerator, and a few bottles of water. There were some frozen dinners in the freezer, the same brand I buy. They changed their packaging last year. These were old. I called and ordered her a pizza and a salad.

"When the food gets here, you need to eat," I admonished, as though she were a frightened child. Not really much of a stretch, actually. I'm sure she's legal aged. "Pam will be back soon and I'm certain she wants you strong and lively, right?" I was more than a little disgusted as I said it, but I tried to smile. If this is what it takes to ensure the girl remembers to eat, then she'll hear what she needs to.

The vampire handed Daphne some money, instructing her to use it to pay for her meal when it arrives. Then he had the nerve to look at me, as though he had done something redeeming. I spared him a nod, which seemed to satisfy him.

"Come, time is pressing," he said. He was already halfway to the door. I glanced back at the girl, once again slumped on the sofa, and shook my head. She reminded me of a dog when its master dies.

"Pam is very good to her human," he told me, as we headed back to the car.

"Oh yes, I can see she's very well cared for," I snapped.

"She is bereft."

"She's a pet."

"If she is that, she is one of those little dogs in a handbag. Adored and doted upon."

He didn't get my door this time. I swung it in behind me with a little extra slam. He said nothing more as he backed down the driveway and began driving toward Lux Nails and their new Moonlight Madness hours.


	2. Shake Your Tail, Vampire

A/N: Hello! I am going to aim for regular Tuesday/Friday updates with this, so we will see how that goes.

Characters and setting are owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, who is terrific.

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Chapter 2 - Shake Your Tail, Vampire

We sat in his car in the parking lot of the strip mall that housed Lux Nails. They weren't the only business that still had their lights on. There was a sandwich place down on the end doing a steady trade, and a clothing shop next door that seemed to be in the process of closing up for the night. It was nearly nine o'clock by now. I've never actually been in a nail salon before, something which the vampire and I apparently had in common.

"We are too cold to the touch," he explained. "The humans would know we were different. And of course, it is only very recently in this century that this male grooming has come back into fashion. But you are a human woman, so what is your excuse?"

"We never had the money, when I was growing up," I shrugged. "And touch amplifies the, my," I waved a hand, as I reached for some descriptor. "Ability."

"You cannot keep them out?" He seemed surprised.

"I've learned to. I am still learning to," I corrected myself. "It's a bit like...Have you ever been in those electronics stores, where they sell all the different televisions?" He nodded and I continued, "Well it's a bit like that. The screens are always on, all the time, all different channels. I've learned to turn the volume down, so to speak, to tune all or most of it out, but it's always an effort to keep it muted." I paused to mull that over and then nodded, pleased with the analogy.

"That sounds unpleasant."

"Why yes, Sheriff. In fact, it is." I smiled at him, bright and false. "But evidently, it can be useful."

"Yes," he agreed, and nodded toward the storefront. "I will wait here. You will enter and request a service, and read the minds of the humans in the store. Find out who this man is, and what is his employ there. Find out if they have seen Pam. When you have finished, come back out here," he finished. Thank goodness he had laid all that out for me. I could never have fathomed such a complex plan. "Will you be able to read other minds while they are touching you?"

"Yes," I answered. With difficulty, and a focus that will likely make me seem as dim to the employees there as he evidently believed me to be.

"Go now, then. If there is any trouble, I will be near."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," I muttered, getting out of the car.

The nail salon was brightly lit. Despite the hour, they seemed to be doing a decent trade. I entered to a bright, mechanical chime as the door swung open, catching the attention of everyone in the shop. There were four other customers and four employees, all human, all female. I reached out further with my other sense. There were hazier brains moving around somewhere off to the left, the workers next door, but no one else nearby. I wrinkled my nose at the choking, acrid smell of whatever kind of shellac was being applied to the nails of the woman at the nearest table. The attendant had a little mask on, just like the kind that nurses wear to keep out germs. I don't reckon it helps more than a tiny bit. How do they breathe this stuff all day and night and not get sick? I quickly forced a smile across my face and turned my eye toward the woman stepping up to greet me.

"Good evenin' sugar, welcome to Lux! How can we help you tonight?" She looked about my age, mid-twenties, and was dressed in tight jeans and the pink shirt that seemed to be the uniform here. She had bold blond highlights in her chestnut hair, a terrible fake tan, and a warm and genuine smile.

"Hi there," I returned, matching her perky cordiality. "I don't have an appointment, but I was hoping maybe someone could fit me in for a pedicure? I've got some peep-toe shoes to wear to work tomorrow and I want to look my best," I grinned. This was actually true. Normally I can dress for comfort, but we had clients coming in tomorrow. I'd be meeting them upstairs, and I try to look professional on these occasions. Had I been at home, I probably would have tended to my own toenails. It occurred to me then that unlike the underfed Daphne, the Sheriff had not offered to cover my evening's expenses. In that case, I'd just have to do my best to try to enjoy this little reconnaissance mission if I could.

"Oh sure!" Perky and Orange enthused. "Diane's just freeing up I think. Diane?" she called over her shoulder. "Got time for a pedi?" I followed her gaze to where another woman sat painting fingernails. She smiled at me and gave a nod. Perky gestured to a wall of nail polish, and after making my selection (Señorita Rose-alita), I was led over to a comfortable leather chair poised above a basin. It was quickly filled with water and a packet of fragrant foot soak and I shucked my shoes and rolled my jeans up to my calves as instructed. The soothing aroma of sandalwood filtered up from the steaming water, doing wonders for the air quality and I sat back, letting myself relax as I lowered my mental shields.

The caveat to mind reading is that I can only see what's there at the time. In the right situation I can guide people to the thoughts and memories that I need to explore, pulling small details to their attention and working slowly through the milieu. This wasn't one of those times. No matter how nice these women seemed, I wasn't about to blurt out, "So, kidnapped any good vamps lately?" to get them thinking in the right direction. Instead I lingered in every mind, hoping to catch anything that might indicate foul play at work here. The other clients offered nothing notable. The woman sitting in the chair across from me was looking forward to her boyfriend reaping the benefits of this pampering. He really loved her feet. I pulled back from her pretty quickly. That sort of thing is very tame in comparison to some people's predilections. I don't have a great amount of sexual experience myself, but owing to my telepathy, I've had an education in kink that would make Dr. Ruth blush.

Thankfully no one else was having thoughts of that nature. The woman who'd been shellacked had left when her nails were dry, thinking only of getting home to watch the soap opera she'd recorded that day before going to bed. The radio was on at low volume, playing fun girl rock with a strong country twang à la Carrie Underwood, and one attendant and another client shared smiles as either sang along to the song they knew. I gave a little moan of pleasure as Diane rubbed her thumbs into the arch of my left foot and resolved to stop resisting and just get lost in her mind for a bit. Mostly she was focused on the task at hand. She was pleased that I appeared to be enjoying myself, because I seemed tightly wound to her. She hoped I'd become a repeat customer here. She was aiming to do an extra good job to ensure that.

"So how'd you hear about us?" she asked.

"I got a flier at the mall," I said.

A wave of relief flooded through her. It was such a sudden and unexpected response that I must have twitched because she paused in her work and looked up at me. I forced myself to grin. "Sorry, you tickled!" I said, half scolding.

"Oops," she grinned back. She is clearly just as good at the smooth veneer as I am. That's interesting, too.

_It's fine. It's all fine. Normal. And it's clearly good for business, just like this late night stuff. See? It's just like I said. Everything is fine._

I wanted her to continue this train of thought, but just then the shop's door swung open and without looking up myself, I knew that a vampire had entered. It was coming in loud and clear from each of the workers, along with feelings of awe and possibly excitement. Diane had taken her hands off me and I lost the thread of her specific thoughts in the rush of the others. I half expected to see Sheriff Northman as I turned toward the new arrival, both because I knew him to be just outside, and because he was so obviously vampire when you looked at him. It was part of his whole shtick at the vampire tourist bar. People came there to see vampires, so the vampires there didn't bother trying to blend in. I can tell vampires just at a glance, without even touching their minds. They have a little bit of a glow about them. Most people can't see that, though. Most people take a minute or two to register a vampire. Not the women who worked here, apparently. The vampiress who entered was diminutive with thick black hair and warm brown skin, huge dark eyes, and a sweet face. She was asking Perky about having her nails painted.

This was fortuitous. Too fortuitous, I realized immediately. She'd probably been sent in here by the Sheriff to get people thinking about vamps. Smart of him. It worked. Perky was thinking that this woman was one of the loveliest women she'd ever seen. The woman working across from me was thinking of the only other vampire client she'd had, and how her skin had warmed right up in the water, and it had surprised her. She'd been nervous at first. The vampire she pictured was not the missing Pam. Another woman was wondering what color nail polish the vamp would choose, betting on blood red or black. Diane was wondering if the vampire had a human companion. She was trying to guess if it would be a man or a woman. I guess vampires' generally ambivalent sexuality was pretty well known. Diane didn't seem to have a problem with this, she was just curious.

"Is that a vampire?" I asked in a low voice as Diane got back to work on my toes. I wasn't sure if the vampire could hear me. Probably, if she was listening, even over the radio and the other talking. I wasn't really concerned about it. Diane nodded as she got back to my toes.

"Wow," I said. "Do you get a lot in here? With the night hours?"

"We get some," she answered. She thought of a few of her vampire clients, but it seemed she hadn't focused much on what they looked like above the ankles. She knew to avoid meeting their eyes, and so she'd kept her head down and done her work. I wanted to know why she seemed to know so much about them.

"Ever dated one?" I asked her, flashing what I hoped was an impish grin. One thing that everyone did know about vampires was that sex with them is supposed to be incredible. The cover of Cosmo this month featured a model dressed in what had looked to me like 'fangbanger couture' and the headline, "50 Reasons to Date a Vampire." I'd seen it on the stand when I was checking out at the grocery store. There's a whole spate of reasons why this is stupid (maybe even close to fifty), but, this is the kind of thing that women talked about in places like this, isn't it?

Diane shook her head. "Nope," she smiled. "I'm not that daring." She wasn't thinking that dating a vampire was daring, though. In fact, she was judging me unkindly for thinking of vampires in those terms. She liked vampires. Pitied them, even. She was one of those who believed that their condition was a sad fate, that nobody would choose that sort of un-life themselves. Most vampires I'd met were actually very happy being vampires, but Diane's view rang of the sympathetic story they told the world. She changed the subject and started talking to me about a new movie coming out. I was too afraid to risk either upsetting her or being too obvious to continue.

While my polish was drying I cast out a final time, but no one was thinking anything negative. If Pam had been lured here for harm, none of these women were involved. People really aren't able to mask hatred this way, nor guilt, when the cause is in such close proximity. There was none. I was going to have to walk out and tell the Sheriff that overall this place had been a bust. Peachy.

I tipped Diane, and Perky was happy to run my debit card to pay for the pedicure itself. I could have just covered it with the cash I had on hand, but as I hadn't any idea where else the night would be taking me, I didn't want to leave my wallet empty.

"Sookie Stackhouse," she read carefully as we waited for the authorization. "Hey, any relation to Jason?"

"My brother," I grinned. My brother knows a lot of women. This has happened before.

"I haven't seen Jason in ages! What's he been up to?"

"Oh, you know, same old. Still hanging around with Hoyt and the rest of his buddies."

Perky started to tell me what was surely an edited version of the last time she'd seen Jason, and I nodded distractedly. Diane was suddenly thinking of her own brother, tall and sandy-haired with bright green eyes, and her own brother's buddies, who made her worry. Particularly the skinny dark-haired one with the bad skin. The one who'd handed Daphne the flier in her memory. The one named Dirk. Well, it was something at least. They told me to have a blessed evening and I left without letting on that I'd been anything more than a girl who planned on a special day tomorrow.

"What did you find out?" he asked as I got in the car.

"The guy who handed out the fliers is named Dirk. Diane is the woman who waited on me. I think she might be the owner. Dirk is a friend of her brother's, and she doesn't think well of him. I think the brother might have been the other man at the mall."

"Do they have Pam?"

"No one thought of her at all. I'd find it really hard to believe anyone in there would harm her though. I'm assuming that vampire who showed up was an associate of yours?"

"Yes. Indira. I thought it would be useful to make them think about vampires. Possibly they would see her as another target." And he sent her anyway. I made a mental note of that.

"Mmhmm. Well, good thinking there. It worked. Except all they thought were positive things. It was actually, now don't take offense here, but it was actually really peculiar. Most people have some reservations. Even the most accepting humans do, when it comes to vamps. They all seemed to like you guys in there."

"Yes, I can see how that would seem strange," he said dryly.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't even pretend I've hurt your feelings. Anyway, they have a few vampire clients. Maybe I could pick them out if I saw them again, maybe not. One was blond, it could have been your Pam, but I don't know. No one was thinking of her specifically. It all seemed pretty aboveboard in there."

"So we need to find this Dirk."

"Seems like your only lead, yes."

"What is his last name? Where does he live?"

"People don't think like that," I shrugged.

"Explain."

"She didn't think, 'Oh I am concerned about the shady nature of my brother's friend Dirk So-And-So of 123 Maple Street, Shreveport.' It was fleeting worry and distrust along with the name."

The vampire pulled out his phone and dialed. To my surprise, he put his phone on speaker so I could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Fangtasia, the bar with a bite," a sultry female voice answered. "This is Araminta. How may I serve you tonight?"

"This is your master. Give me Clancy."

I couldn't help but snicker as the girl stammered out her "Right away, Master," and put the call on hold. He glanced at me and I just shook my head at the exchange. He looked like he was about to say something when someone else picked up the line.

"Sheriff," acknowledged the voice of Clancy.

"Pam went two nights ago to a nail salon offering vampire hours. It is not clear whether or not she arrived here, but there is some suspicion regarding those who lured her to this place. Two men. My witness will give you their descriptions now."

He held the phone towards me, and to the best of my ability, I told Clancy what Diane's brother and Dirk each looked like.

"I see no one here at present to match."

"It stands to reason that if they are targeting vampires, they will come to where vampires are. Ask around. I don't have to remind you to be discrete."

"Yes, Sheriff."

"I am going to discover the homes of the men. Call me when you learn something."

"Yes, Sheriff."

He hung up and pocketed his phone, then sat back in his seat.

"What now?" I asked.

"We will wait for the shop to close, and we will follow this Diane home. If the brother is not there, I will glamour her to find out his location."

"Want to just run me home now then?" I asked, letting myself sound hopeful in a way I didn't feel.

"No. I may require you further. You have told your sponsor you will call by sunrise."

Before I could throw back a facetious, "Yes, Sheriff," the vampire Indira appeared at the window of the Corvette, which he opened long enough to hear her mundane account and then dismiss her for the evening. She didn't even glance at me before she thanked him and left.

"How many of your vampires know what I am?" I asked him bluntly, once she'd gone.

"Only Pam. Why do you ask this?"

"Indira would have seen me in the shop, and now she's seen me in your car. What does she think I'm doing here?"

"Feeding me perhaps," he shrugged.

"Well that's not going to happen," I said quickly. "So what, you're just in the midst of a missing person investigation and you just stop for a snack?"

"She does not know that Pam is missing. Only Clancy and Longshadow know."

"What does Indira think she was doing here then?"

"Following an order."

I let out another half a chuckle and turned away. I suppose being bossy and expecting obedience just go part and parcel with the whole Sheriff thing.

"You are very amused by all of this."

"By you," I clarified. "Not by your missing child. I know this is serious. I do hope we find her tonight. Incidentally, yes, I would be willing to stay and help you further. How considerate of you to ask."

We sat there for half an hour saying nothing more to each other. The finger I'd cut was itching and I caught myself fidgeting with the bandage before his sharp intake of breath reminded me to leave it alone. I cracked my window and when he looked over I reminded him pointedly that some of us require air. I lay my head back on the seat. It was getting late, and I was feeling tired, but I was both unwilling and unable to really relax. He went into down time, that perfect stillness that vampires can adopt, almost a trance-like state. I knew he would hear me if I spoke. They always respond to external stimuli, but I wasn't sure if he was hard at thinking or if he'd just gone blank. I was hesitant to disturb him by asking.

Finally the shop showed signs of closing up, and not long after that the three remaining workers came out and headed to their cars. He pressed the button that made my window go up. It was darkly tinted, and I didn't have to ask why he was doing it. I knew it was to prevent us from being noticed. Diane was the last to leave, shutting the lights and locking up the doors. I assumed he would just go talk to her now and save us the bother of following her home. When I said so he pointed upward to the lamp post under which we were parked, and I noticed the camera mounted there. Directly below it, we were out of its view, but if he'd walked across the parking lot, he certainly could have been seen.

Diane was too far away from us for me to get much of a read on her. She was feeling eager, was all I could tell, and that made perfect sense since her work day had just finished. Eric let her leave the parking lot before he turned on his car and swung around to follow her. She hadn't noticed us at all. I felt like a spy. I'm a little ashamed to say it was actually kind of exciting. I found myself leaning forward in my seat. We were a couple of cars back most of the way to her house. Once we were in her development, we drove past the driveway she turned into and the Sheriff pulled over a few houses up. He was out of the car the instant we'd stopped. I wasn't sure what I was meant to do, he was out of sight before his door swung shut. I got out of the car and crept furtively down the sidewalk. The houses were small but tidy. There were some lights on, but for the most part it was quiet.

I peeked around the hedge at the edge of Diane's property and ran smack dab into Eric heading back towards me. He moved so quietly! I stumbled backwards and he caught me by both arms before I could fall. His grip was hard, and it hurt a little, but it was preferable to landing on my butt or my back or worse, cracking my head on the cold cement. His fingers loosened their hold on me as I steadied myself and he just stared down at me until I nodded to him that I was fine.

"Come," he said, and turned away again. He spoke softly but not in a whisper. "Can you search the house for other minds? Human or Vampire? Do this now."

I didn't bother quibbling, I just did it. Diane was standing along the side of her garage staring vacantly at the ground. I brushed over her to see the same white fog and knew he'd doubled back to glamour her before she could get inside her home. With me here, I realized it was probably the worst that would happen to her, when without me... Actually without me the vampires would never have known about Diane and so technically any danger she hypothetically would have been in, had I refused to help out, was also my fault. Sort of. I rubbed my head.

"There's no one here. Only the neighbors, at a distance. There's a cat inside. House cat," I clarified. As opposed to a werelion or something. You always want to err on the side of specificity when dealing with supes.

He crossed back to Diane then and started speaking.

"What is the name of your brother?"

"Jack Mason."

"Where does he live?"

"He's got a place over in Red Chute," she said. A near suburb of Shreveport, just to the east.

On it went. Whereas I could provoke no response in someone the vampire had glamoured, he commanded her full attention. He got the address, he got Dirk's last name (Palfry). She didn't know Dirk's address, but it wouldn't be too hard to look up, if we couldn't find it out from Jack. He asked her where he hangs out, she said a bar, but she didn't know which one. While he was talking to her I followed along in her mind. It was like he was calling up specific records in a database without any additional context. I could see where the usefulness of their glamour as an interrogation tool ran out. If they didn't know exactly what questions to ask, they'd get nothing. I saw that when he was asking about Jack and Dirk's stomping grounds.

"Do you know the vampire, Pam Ravenscroft?" he asked.

"No."

"Did she come in to your shop two nights ago?"

No answer. There was only more static, doubly more, in fact. She had said she didn't know Pam, so a question about her specific whereabouts was illogical, and unanswerable.

"Describe her," I said. "She doesn't know the name. She has no idea who you mean, so anything you ask to follow that up is blank."

He gave me a look that seemed to say, 'I'm the one asking the questions right now,' and I just shrugged. He could take or leave my advice. I am standing here at this point out of curiosity, and to make sure that Diane gets inside safely, though truly I didn't think he would do her harm. He might need her again if this didn't pan out with the brother.

Once he told Diane what Pam looked like, the image of her seated in the salon came into view. Before Diane could answer I blurted out, "She was there. Diane waited on her."

"When did she leave the shop?"

"She doesn't know. It isn't there," I explained Diane's silence. Finally I realized what this feedback was. He continued his barrage of questionings getting more and more annoyed with her lack of elucidation.

"Sheriff Northman," I said firmly, interrupting him. "She doesn't know. I think she was glamoured by someone else, to forget," I tried to explain what I was seeing in her head but words were failing me. "Is it possible Pam herself glamoured Diane as she left?"

"It is possible. I see no reason why she would."

"Possibly that is the point. The reason has been erased." He pondered that for a moment and then turned back to face the target of his glamour.

"Diane. You have just come home from work. You will not recall seeing this woman after she left your shop earlier this evening. You will forget me entirely. Go inside and feed your cat." After another long gaze he released her, and she turned without acknowledging either of us and went in her house.

I walked down the driveway ahead of him. I didn't bother creeping as I paced toward his car. I yawned as he got in beside me, and buckled my belt. I turned and watched as he failed to yawn in response, as if I needed another reminder that he wasn't human.

"Nice of you to think of the cat," I remarked. When he didn't say anything I asked, "Where are we headed now? Jack's house?"

"I am surprised you need to ask."

"Why?"

"I would expect you to read it out of my head."

"I can't hear vampire thoughts. We told you this."

"And surely, there is no reason at all for you to lie to me about that."

"Oh, there's every reason why I would," I answered, as I thought again of the flash I'd seen earlier. "But the fact is, I didn't. You're either too dead or too different for me to read."

"We are going to Fangtasia. I need to speak with Clancy and Longshadow together."

"I won't be able to read them."

"So you say."

"I'll wait in the car," I said.

"You will wait in my office."

"I'd prefer not." I really would. Neither time that I'd been in there had been pleasant. The foot fetishist was as nothing to some of the thoughts swirling around in there.

"Your preference does not enter the equation. I am tasked with returning you safe. Therefore, you will accompany me to the more secure location."

We arrived at Fangtasia a short while later, pulling in to the side parking lot and entering through the employee door. I was led down the short hallway to a very ordinary office. The Sheriff had me sit in one of the guest chairs while he sat behind his desk. The seating arrangement was not my first choice. It would put my back to anyone entering the room. He deemed the setup useful as I wouldn't be facing anyone who entered. I was to pretend to be the same glamoured "witness" I'd been on the phone to Clancy, so I'd need to feign vacant serenity. I am able to control my face very well no matter what I overhear, a product of a lifetime's exposure to people's most private thoughts. He wasn't to know that though.

He asked if I could read the minds in the bar, to search for anyone thinking of Pam or ill intent in general. I grimaced, but nodded.

"You object to the request?"

"Oh, just not looking forward to hearing whatever sick fantasies are floating around out there."

"Yet another conversation for another night, Miss Stackhouse."

"Sookie. And no, that's not a conversation I care to have at any point."

He signaled me then to assume my _glamour pose_; dead, downcast eyes, facing him, and general stillness. A knock at the door signaled the arrival of a waitress teeming with lusty thoughts about the vampire sitting in front of me. I never got more than a sidelong glance at her as she stepped over to his desk and set down a bottle of the synthetic blood. That's what had been responsible for the vampires' newly found place in the entirely figurative sun. This was another part of the story they told the humans, that they could subsist entirely on the synthetic. It was probably true, but very few vampires actually did. I figured it would compare to giving up home-cooked meals for protein bars, indefinitely. Technically the synthetic blood provided what they needed to live, but it certainly wasn't enjoyable. And really, as the woman to my right was demonstrating expertly, why would any vampire deny himself the real deal when there were so many humans eager to throw themselves at anything with fangs?

"Hi sweetie," she cooed. "Is there anything else I can get you?" She was stroking her neck in what she perceived to be a subtle hint that she would gladly put herself on the menu if he preferred more substantial fare.

"Tell Longshadow and Clancy that I need to see them."

"Is that _all_?" Oh brother.

"Yes. That is all," he dismissed her.

I saw myself through her eyes then as she looked down at me, little more than a bowed blond head. She assumed that I was his meal for the evening, as well as his entertainment. She hated me instantly.

"Ginger. Go now."

She did. He didn't glance up, which was a good thing because I would have been tempted to laugh at the stern Sheriff Sweetie behind the desk, totally betraying the illusion of my hypnosis. The vampires arrived and were brought up to speed as much as was possible without revealing my part. They weren't concerned with how he'd come by the information. As they talked I did let my mind wander beyond the wall that blocked this room from the bar and the dance floor outside. As predicted it was sex, sex, curiosity (tourist), sex, kinky sex, and sex. At least these were easy to skip over. I had to take little breaks, refocusing my attention. There were so many people. I didn't have to try to keep a vacant and distracted look on my face. Sifting through this many minds was a task and a half. I happened across the same sorts of petty lawbreakers as before, but saw no need to report them. There was no impending raid on the bar by bigoted police tonight. There was a drainer scouting for targets though, and that was something to speak up about, especially if we already had one missing vampire on our hands.

Vampire blood has a variety of interesting properties when ingested by humans. It can heal you, if you're wounded. It can hype up your libido. It can give you some extra strength, even make you more physically attractive. It can make you feel good. Then of course, like any hard drug, there's always the risk that it could turn you full on batshit crazy. It's the hottest illicit substance out there these days, and the vamps don't supply it willingly. Teams of vampire blood drainers capture and forcibly drain their victims, and then most often, just leave them to burn up come the sunrise. This would be the worst case scenario in the matter of the Sheriff's missing child.

The problem was that I couldn't see the man; I could only hear his intent. I strained to hold on to the thread of his thoughts as I lifted my eyes to the Sheriff. He must have caught that flicker of movement because his eyes drifted to me and I widened mine perceptibly. I wasn't sure how else to communicate the threat. He took my meaning well enough and began to wrap up his chat with his two underlings. As he did so, I probed the minds nearest the drainer. Maybe someone was looking at him? A waitress! He saw her approaching, and took the last swig of his beer and ordered another. She'd checked up on him three times in the last hour and he just wanted her to leave him the hell alone. I jumped to her, but she was already heading back to the bar. She waited for the bartender to hand her the bottle, which she placed on her little round tray and carried back... to Dirk Palfry.

I held still, even as I felt my nerves jangle. I was sure that the vampires in the room would sense my sudden spike of anxiety. A smooth facade is one thing, but I can't control my body chemistry. The Sheriff stood then and strode from his office, the other two trailing in his wake. I watched through the drainer's eyes as the three of them entered the bar and spread out. Dirk was locked on the Sheriff, noticing that the other vampires present seemed to defer to him. He was thinking the Sheriff must be pretty powerful, and was weighing him up as a target. He decided on the spot that it probably wasn't worth the risk. Generally they targeted the weaker vampires, the younger ones. Dirk went back to sizing up the small female vampire surrounded by male admirers. Idiot. Even through his eyes I could tell she was ancient.

When two hands fell on my shoulders I practically leapt up from my chair.

"What did you hear?"

"Did you see him?" I asked. "Dirk?"

He paused to recall his sweep of the bar. "The brown haired one. Pockmarks on his face. Sitting alone and drinking a beer."

"He's a drainer! Or he's scouting for them. It's all he's thinking about."

"Do they have Pam?"

"I don't know."

He was gone again. I found myself pacing the office with worry for the unknown Pam. I stayed on Dirk, but he wasn't thinking about past targets, only future ones. It occurred to me quite suddenly that I may just have signed the man's death warrant. At that thought I slumped down on the couch and hovered over my knees with my head in my hands. It was the hour, the strain of using my abilities so often and so intensely this evening, the ebb of my adrenaline receding, the worry and the fear both for myself and for a woman (well, vampire) that I had never met; I was utterly exhausted.

"He will be followed when he leaves and pulled aside so we may question him."

I hadn't heard him reenter, but I looked up with bleary eyes. "I don't think I can," I said honestly.

He was giving me his appraising look once again. "Very well," he said finally. "Come," he beckoned.

With an effort I lifted myself from the couch. I had a moment of dizziness as the blood rushed from my head. I felt his firm grip around my arm again, steadying me. I took a moment and then nodded gratefully and let him lead me from the club. He was back on the phone issuing orders as we walked.

I was too tired to question the fact that he knew without being told where I lived, nor that my car was still sitting in the Splendide parking lot. It would be okay for the night, even guarded only by a mere human. I was probably too tired to drive anyway. That didn't seem normal. I must be seriously out of practice. We pulled up to the little house I rented and he was around the car and taking my arm again before I could so much as fumble for the latch. I let myself in the house and stood in the doorway. He did not turn to leave right away as I expected.

"Please don't think me ill-mannered, but I'm not going to invite you inside tonight. It is too late for me to be entertaining guests, and I don't have anything to offer you anyway."

"You have a phone call to make."

Ah, right. He wanted to be certain I remembered to call Mr. Cataliades to inform him that I'd arrived home safe and sound. I took a couple of steps back into the entryway and made the call, letting my sponsor know that the Sheriff had kept his word, and that I'd phone tomorrow with the details of my evening.

"There you are then," I said to the vampire, who still did not seem ready to leave. "Please let me know when you recover Pam, I'll be worrying for her."

"She feels the same to me. The bond is still muted. No stronger, but no weaker. That is something. Hopefully before this dawn."

"Hopefully," I agreed. "Well, good night, Sheriff."

"Eric."

"Hm?" I yawned.

"This is my name. You may use it. You have corrected me twice with yours."

"Oh. Well, good night, Eric," I repeated.

"Good night, Sookie."

I went to close the door but suddenly caught myself. "Oh, Sheriff? Er, Eric? I know you'll have to question him, but you should know that Dirk himself is not a killer of vampires. He really is just a scout."

"I will leave it to Pam to decide his fate," he said ambiguously. "Do not waste your concern on that scum."

I could only nod, and shut my door. I was barely able to get out of my jeans and sneakers before I collapsed on top of my bed.


	3. Fine Vampires Make Fine Birds

A/N: Characters and setting are owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by the lovely FiniteAnarchy.

I've taken substantial liberties with Brenda Hesterman. I hope you'll come along with me on this.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Fine Vampires make Fine Birds

It was no wonder I woke up late the next morning, which is no nice way to start the day. I dressed in a maroon skirted suit with matching shoes and a white blouse. I had my hair swept up and clipped, which was genius thinking on my part, as it looked both professional and it saved me about ten minutes of fussing, had I tried to wear it down. Keys and my purse in hand I jogged out of my house, only to remember once I reached the empty driveway that my car was still at Splendide. Eff.

I called for a taxi, then I called my boss, Brenda Hesterman, to let her know I was running late. She wasn't thrilled with that, but there was nothing to be done for it. I didn't get into the details over the phone. Some things are just not phone conversations. Since she'd see my car in the parking lot, I knew I'd have some explaining to do. The sad fact is that I'm not known for my social life. Getting picked up after work for a date, as the women occasionally did, is not something that had ever happened to me. My routine was pretty boring and consistent. That would hopefully count in my favor when it came to her willingness to forgive this fluke occurrence. I had a moment of tremendous relief about the fact that I wouldn't have to lie to her, either. It was really great to have someone at work who could understand supe things.

I went back inside and drank another cup of coffee while I waited for the cab. I'd hoped to have a message from the Sheriff letting me know that Pam had been recovered, but there was none. I hadn't given him my phone number, but then again, I hadn't told him where I lived either and he'd had no problem knowing that. I hoped it was just a case of vampire rudeness; that she'd been found and it was just a matter of him not considering that I was left curious. My finger was itching like crazy, and since I hadn't taken the time earlier to change the bandage, I went and did that before adding a little bit more to my makeup.

Brenda was sitting in the front showroom when I arrived with two guests, human and demon. This is her preferred place of conducting business. The room is set up like an elegant parlor. It's full of antiques that run the gamut from the Louis XV divan and matched chairs that my boss and our clients were sitting on, to the first century Roman torso of Venus posed unobtrusively in the corner, to the Edwardian giltwood side table, to the Syrian bronze goddess figurine that rested on top of it (circa 1800 BCE, for reference). It might sound like a mishmash, but it's very tastefully done. The goal is to create a living space, to help people envision these items in their homes. My specialty isn't in human artifacts, but of course I know plenty about them.

"Good morning! I'm so sorry I'm late," I said as I entered. I was sporting a smile that I hoped was both welcoming and apologetic. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I identified to the human male and the demon, who had risen to their feet when I entered. I shook the man's proffered hand when he introduced himself as Kenneth Glassport, and inclined my head toward the demon, who was called Julian Herbahz. Some supes are happy to shake your hand. Fairies in particular are quite touchy-feely. The other fae, and demons are part of that many-branched tree, are hit or miss. I aim to err on the side of caution. Weres and shifters tend to shake, since except for around the full moons, they live just normal humans. Vampires don't, because of the whole body temperature thing again. Also, because they're a bit snooty.

I was curious about the man. He was quite handsome; that was certainly hard to miss. He had short, strawberry blond hair, pale eyebrows, a smattering of freckles and eyes that I could only describe as turquoise. They were so brightly blue with just a hint of green. Apart from his looks, he certainly had an interesting job, though what it was specifically I had no idea. It's unusual for a supe who could easily pass for human to keep a human associate, and Julian Herbahz could certainly pass. He was bald on top with short white fuzz on the sides, jowly, with a ruddy complexion, and pronounced features.

After a few moments' small talk we set down to business. Kenneth lifted a leather briefcase to the table and opened it to reveal, not the sheaf of papers or the laptop one might expect, but rather a foam padded interior specially formed to accommodate several vampire artifacts.

"Wow," I breathed out, impressed. I felt the flash of Brenda's irritation with me for that. We are always complimentary about the things people bring us, but showing too much enthusiasm is something she considers uncouth and amateurish. I struggled to rein myself in, but just, _wow_. The collection included two ritual knives of what I presumed were solid gold and solid silver, a jeweled chalice, an iron quill forged to resemble a feather, a polished ebony stake, and a small bronze brazier. It looked like someone had bumped off a vampire adjudicator on the way to a grand summit meeting and looted his knapsack. These were rare objects, I knew, and even rarer for being a complete set. Vamps have their own rule of law, apart from any human mandates to which they are beholden by their own immediate geography. These were the tools of that governance.

"These objects have been in my possession for some time," Julian said. That explained next to nothing. "Some time" could be a month or two centuries. "But my interest in vampire artifacts has waned considerably. Vampires are becoming so commonplace in this modern society," he finished, with a hint of his disdain.

"We'll have to verify their authenticity of course," said Brenda. "But I can't imagine we'll have trouble finding buyers. There are a number of ranking vampires among our client base would be eager..." she began, but Kenneth cut her off.

"Actually, Ms. Hesterman, that is the sticking point. Mr. Herbahz is a collector of artifacts, and would prefer to see this lot pass into the hands of another who will appreciate it for its aesthetic and historical value."

"You will refuse a vampire buyer," Brenda clarified.

"Yes," Julian nodded. "I would prefer a private sale. We understand that this is a service you offer?"

"It is," Brenda conceded hesitantly. "I may have a few clients who would be interested. Fae," she clarified. That was probably true. There are a number of fae in this world who have amassed human money but do not have the typical human expenses. "I take it you will wish the set to remain intact?"

"Yes. There are some other particulars to the transaction we may discuss as well. Kenneth," Julian turned deliberately and addressed the man. "Why don't you accompany Ms. Stackhouse and see what she will require from us as far as the authentication goes."

I looked to Brenda, who gave me a nod, and I stood, as did the man and demon once again. The air of formality didn't really surprise me. Supes, particularly the ones who have been around for a while, are often set in what we consider bygone customs of courtesy. Weres are an exception to this, having a reputation as a rowdier bunch overall. Because they don't really live any longer than regular humans, there's no reason for them to have ever adopted anything outside of modern behavior. They only show deference to their pack superiors, and little-where else. Two-natured society is not really my field of expertise, but they're certainly interesting. A lot of their structure and behavior is similar to that of their animal counterparts, which is where most of my broad knowledge comes from.

That's where Brenda fits in to the supe world, incidentally. The Were part, not the rowdy part. She is the second daughter of Were parents, thus not a full Were herself. Unlike some younger children in two-natured families, she hadn't been kept in the dark about her parents' world. I like working for her. We're not bosom friends or anything, but the fact that we both have certain knowledge about the unseen world goes a long way. Like me, she's stuck in the in between. She's nothing like most Weres herself, just as I am very little like a fairy. I don't know if it was her heritage (were-itage?) that accounted for it or not, but her mind was a lot duller to me than most humans'. It made her easy to be around. I was able to help her on the business end of things from time to time using my ability, but she never imposed on it. All in all, working here is a pretty great arrangement for both of us.

I led Kenneth out toward the main entry and down the short hall to the freight elevator. Brenda and Julian had money matters to discuss, as well as other particulars of the transaction, I knew.

"Have you been with Mr. Herbahz long?" I asked as we took the short ride downstairs.

"About seven years now. How long have you been with Splendide?"

"Only two," I answered.

"And how does a human come to be an expert in vampire artifacts?"

I laughed. "Here was me about to ask you how a human comes to be in the employ of a demon."

"He is my great uncle," the man said. "Through marriage."

"Ah."

"And you, Miss Stackhouse?"

"Sookie, please. My sponsor is Desmond Cataliades." He would understand the term and recognize the name.

"The part-human brother of Nargal."

"That's him, yes."

"You are a relation?" Kenneth asked.

"He's a friend of the family," I said.

"You know Gladiola then," he said after a pause.

"I do," I smiled. Gladiola and her sister Diantha are Mr. Cataliades's nieces. Though both girls are a little intimidating, I consider us friends.

"We met several weeks ago," he explained. Judging by the look in his eye, Gladiola had an admirer. I gave him a bit of a knowing smile as we entered my lab. I went right to my gloves and the main table, flipping on the overhead lamps and turning on the light for my microscope.

"I don't know if Brenda went over all this with you, but I'll need to take minuscule samples and run them through the mass spectrometer," I said, indicating the machine behind me. "It's how we can estimate the date of creation for metalwork like this. I can get technical if you want me to," I offer.

"That won't be necessary."

"Alright," I agree. "Let me just take a look to make sure it's worth my while," I grin. "Please don't be offended, but from time to time we do see forgeries of objets d'art that have been passed along unwittingly, so this is a simple first test." I always phrase the explanation like this, so that even if something does turn up a fake, I've already put the blame on someone besides the client. It actually has happened once or twice, with human stuff. I hate having to break people's hearts and tell them what they thought they had isn't real. I can spot a known fake immediately, just by listening to its owner. Kenneth had every conviction that these were authentic.

"I understand your protocol, Miss Stackhouse." I didn't bother correcting him again, I just got to work.

As I went through piece by piece, I explained what I was looking for; marks of modern metallurgy. I look at the microscopic pattern of the metal which reveals at what temperatures it was forged, which in turn gives an indication of the time period. Of course all bets are offs when it comes to certain supernatural objects, since magic is involved. This actually works to the benefit of those who will continue to fly under the radar. It makes their ancient objects appear modern to cursory examination, and thus they can be attributed to humans who just make weird things sometimes. Humans, eh?

The silver knife was either forged yesterday, or with magic. For starters, it was completely untarnished. Under the microscope there were none of the tiny imperfections that indicate buffing or polishing. While it's certainly true that it could have been "polished" via reverse chemical reaction (a much better way to brighten anything submersible, incidentally), I just doubted it. I sniffed at it.

"It hasn't been treated with any polishing compounds," Kenneth interjected. He was assuming that I was smelling for evidence of chemicals. I was smelling for evidence of magic. That's another little thing about me, one I'm just starting to realize. Growing up, I was never exposed to any magic, but now that I have been, I can sort of detect it. Some spells leave a scent in the air, and of course there's the vampires' glow. I don't smell anything on the knife, but I can just _feel_ that it is old. It's almost like a tingling in my fingers, even through the gloves. We'll just put this in the Things I Don't Understand About My Own Weirdness column, right under "can't be glamoured."

"This piece is the prize of the collection, really," I remarked, setting the silver knife back on the table.

"What is its purpose?" Kenneth asked with interest.

"Punishment," I said matter-of-factly. "Exacting the literal pound of flesh."

"Uegh."

"You said it," I chuckled. "Vampire artifacts of any age wrought from silver though, very rare." I said, and took up the brazier, equally untouched by time.

"I wonder how they made it?" he mused.

They didn't. Fairies made it.

"Very carefully," I grinned.

Vampires and fairies don't get along, mostly because fairy blood is delectable and intoxicating to vampires. Picture a three year old on a sugar high, only with fangs and superhuman strength and an inclination towards chaotic murder. It's sort of like that, from what I've heard. Fairies are not defenseless, though. While not immortal-unless-killed like vampires, they do live a good long time. They're durable, strong, quick, and graceful. They're beautiful. They can hold their own in a fight. And of course, they can wield silver. But then, vampires can wield iron. Vampires can be stronger, but fairies have magic. It's a pretty even match up; a death match for the ages. There hasn't been an all-out war between the races in my lifetime, but there have been many in the long stretch of history.

Equally, there have been times of peace and even trade. Vampires have a great use for silver despite their vulnerability to it, or rather, _because_ of their vulnerability to it. Say you need to chain up a rabid dog. You're going to use the strongest chain you can find, right? Well for vamps, that would be a silver chain. Restraining any vampire who doesn't want to be restrained requires bringing out the proverbial big silver guns.

Humans didn't start doing a lot with silver until about four hundred years ago. Yes, it's been present for about six thousand years of their history, but it was extremely rare, and it certainly wouldn't have been used to forge a tool like this. Even if it weren't for the magic, I would guess the knife to be fairy-made. Today of course, vamps can and do get humans to craft whatever silver objects they require. Vampires can't touch it with their bare hands, since they'd burn. They need to wear mail or something. Actually...

"Is there a glove I'm missing?"

"Pardon?" answered Kenneth.

"There should be a mesh glove, for handling the silver knife, and traditionally also the stake."

"I don't think I saw one when I packed up the collection."

"That's a shame. So not quite completely complete, then," I said.

"I will ask Julian."

"Ask me what?" the demon inquired politely. Kenneth gave a visible start and we both turned to see Brenda and Julian standing just at the doorway.

"I was wondering if the set had included a ritual-use glove, for handling the silver and the stake."

"Hm. I think you are right. We must have omitted it when gathering up the collection from its display case," he said, giving Kenneth a pointed look that left the man feeling frustrated and embarrassed by his petty failure.

"Well that's no trouble, you can bring it by any time," I said quickly. "I had started to explain to Kenneth that I'll require a couple of days to verify age and authenticity for our buyers. There are a number of tests which we do."

"Of course. I have signed the contract and stewardship documents upstairs with Ms. Hesterman," Julian supplied, and Brenda nodded. I could tell she was pleased with whatever terms they had worked out. I imagined Splendide's fee would be slightly higher than normal owing to the private nature of the sale.

"I'll likely settle into it tomorrow, so it's no rush. I do have the small lot I need to finish cataloging this afternoon, Brenda," I supplied.

She nodded at me, and after a brief tour of the lab wherein I was obliged to tell our interested client what some of my various equipment was used for, Brenda led the guests upstairs. I'd just finished packing everything up and moving it to the secure vault when she returned, smiling.

"He's going to be a great contact," she gushed. "He's very interested in fae artifacts of all sorts."

"They were interesting," I agreed.

"That set is real, right?"

"Think so. The silver is even fairy-forged, so double trouble!" I grinned.

"It's going to be a good Christmas," she said.

"Well, maybe I'll get a bonus. Some of us aren't on commission."

"Did you already lock it all away?" she asked, sidestepping my bonus comment.

"Yes ma'am."

"Show me the elf-made arrowheads you found yesterday."

I did as she bid, handing her a pair of padded forceps so she needn't handle the dangerously sharp obsidian. I showed her the pieces I had swapped them for, and she ordered me to get the keepers cleaned and dated. Dating obsidian is tricky, especially when the source of that obsidian is a parallel world with slightly different chemistry and an incongruous time stream. The best I could do is pin down how long it had been here on regular old earth, which would have to suffice. I knew the ages of the stone pieces they had been found with. This is easy to determine by the manner in which they were made, but it is an insufficient estimate for the companion pieces.

Just as Brenda was departing for the world of upstairs and sunlight the intercom buzzed. Since she was closest, she answered it.

"Lab," she stated.

"Bren? Sookie around?"

"She's working, Holly, what do you need?"

"She's got a visitor up here a Mr. Robert Burnham."

Brenda gave me a questioning look and I shrugged. Never heard of him.

"What does he want?" Brenda asked the disembodied voice of Holly, our receptionist.

"He says it's a private and urgent matter."

I rolled my eyes. "That's helpful."

"Should I just page security?" Brenda asks.

"I'll see what it's about. Can we use the parlor?"

"Use the conference room, there's nothing valuable in there."

I nodded at her. We have visitors coming in all the time upstairs, but anyone asking for me personally is probably not a client. I followed Brenda out of the lab, locking it behind me and we took the elevator up, for which I was grateful. Stairs and heels don't mix. One of the security guards, Greg, was hovering around and failing to look menacing. The visitor was a man of middling height with a pale and sickly pallor and an irritated expression.

"Miss Sookie Stackhouse?" he addressed me directly.

"Yes, that's me. How do you do?"

"I'm Bobby Burnham," he stated, and then glanced around at Holly, Brenda, and Greg in turn, before shooting me back a pointed look.

"How can I help you Mr. Burnham?" I asked.

"I'm a business associate of Eric Northman."

Figures. Brenda knew the name of course. He'd been a client after all, and she knew what else he was. Her eyebrows flew up. Holly and Greg were both indifferent.

"If you'll follow me, Mr. Burnham," I said quickly, and beckoned him to follow me down the hall. "Ms. Hesterman, I'll join you shortly," I said, all formality in front of the unknown Bobby. I heard her shooing Greg back to the front door as we paced toward the conference room. I let him walk past me and then closed the door behind us.

"How's Pam?" I asked immediately.

"You are referring to Mr. Northman's vampire child Pam Ravenscroft?" he asked.

"Who else?" I replied incredulously.

"Ms. Ravenscroft is fine and well, to the best of my knowledge," he said mildly. "Miss Stackhouse, I am Mr. Northman's daytime associate. He has requested your presence at his nightclub, Fangtasia, at first dark this evening."

"Why?"

"I'm sure I do not know."

I frowned, and dove right into his head. He certainly was the Sheriff's daytime man. All his thoughts were of Eric. He was irritated that he'd had to come all the way over here just to tell me to come to Fangtasia, but he'd been instructed to speak to me in person and privately. He didn't know why my presence was requested, nor did he have any hint that Pam was or had been missing.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Perhaps I should take your contact information so that I have it for the future."

"I'm sure Eric has it. Thank you for bringing the message Mr. Burnham. I'll try to be there as close to first dark as I can." It'll be just after five o'clock, which would mean leaving here a bit early, after coming in a bit late. I hoped Brenda could be forgiving.

"Mr. Northman requests you be there _right at first dark_," he reiterated.

"And _Mr. Northman_ knows that I have a job. One I evidently need to get back to if I'm expected to leave early."

He was thinking that nothing I had to do here could possibly be more important than a first-order-of-business meeting with his very important vamp of a boss. He had some serious airs about working for the vampire Sheriff, though he didn't seem to know him by that title. He kept saying "mister" instead of "sheriff." He was ready to go anyway, as he had some very important dry-cleaning to pick up, and some very important calls concerning Eric's new landscaping service to make. I struggled not to smirk.

"Thank you for bringing the message, Mr. Burnham. I'll show you out."

After he'd left through the front doors Holly asked me who that was.

"Day guy for one of our vamp clients. He's new I think. I get the impression he thinks his job makes him an important guy. He was told to speak to me directly, is all," I try my best to shrug the entire thing off.

Holly is a practicing Wiccan, meaning she's mostly in it for the spiritual part, but I know from random thoughts she's had that she's considering dabbling with more of the magical side of things. She doesn't know all the ins and outs of the supernatural world, but it's fair to say that she's open to learning them. In time I'm sure she will. Once she gets involved in a coven, they'll ease her in to the knowledge and maybe then I'll speak a bit more freely in front of her. For now, she's simply part of the human staff.

"I don't think I could ever work for a vampire," she said, then amended, "There's nothing wrong with them, but I just don't think I could do it."

Since for the second night in a row it seemed that I'd be working for a vamp without any say in the matter, I had to agree that it wasn't my first choice, either. I excused myself to go and talk to Brenda, knocking on her office door before letting myself in.

"He showed up here last night and demanded that I help him," I said, sitting down in the chair across from her desk.

"With?"

"I'm not sure I can say. That was his daytime guy and he didn't know. It was something important, and something that I didn't really mind helping with." I was certain Eric wanted to keep Pam's disappearance close to the vest. Mr. Cataliades wouldn't disclose, of course. He did all kinds of confidential business for vampires.

"Did you call Desmond?"

"Of course. I called before I left here, and once I was safely home."

"I don't like it."

"Join the club," I shrugged. "But he's got me over a barrel. And it really was for a good cause. It wasn't something frivolous."

"Give them an inch and they will take a mile, Sookie," Brenda warned me.

"What's my other choice? Pack up and head for New Orleans and present myself to the Queen's service?"

She sighed then. "I'm sorry."

"It's my own fault," I said. It was. If I suffered, it was for my own foolhardiness. "He wants me at Fangtasia right at first dark."

She made a little noise of irritation there. "Finish up what you're doing and go home. I want you here bright and early in the morning to tend to to the Herbahz lot. Everything else gets pushed."

"I've got some I can work on while the spectrometer is going." I said.

"Fine, but the Herbahz is the priority. I'd like to make the sale before year end. It'll be great for our fourth quarter numbers. I don't think I have to tell you that you're not mentioning what came in today to your new vampire friend."

"Not my friend, and of course not Brenda. Oh!" I suddenly remembered I needed to talk to her about something else. "Listen, I wanted to speak to you about security. When Eric came in last night, he literally just glamoured the man on duty and walked on through. I think we really need to consider a Were or vampire security company."

"And do away with gormless Greg out there?" she asked. Some of the men in the company we currently used were more brawn than brain. Not being mean, it's just a fact. They certainly look intimidating. I have no doubt they'd be effective against any human troublemakers, but it's the others I'm concerned about.

"Yeah," I answered seriously. "Listen, the vault is all well and good, but you know there are things we don't keep in it. Everything in the front room, everything I'm working on. It gets dark early this time of year."

"I'll ask my sister if there's anyone in the Pack that can do security on nights."

"Sheriff Northman said he has a company, if you want me to get the number."

"That's just what we don't need, more of him."

"He's my problem Brenda. If his company is good, use them. I don't care."

"It just seems insidious to me."

"And maybe it is, but better the foe you know, right?"

"I'll ask my sister," she said again. We spent a few more minutes discussing the new acquisitions. She mentioned that she might contact Niall as a potential buyer, which I don't mind. I left her to the lists of clients and contacts and headed back downstairs. It took me a few more hours to finish the stone arrowheads (finally!), which I then packed up in soft foam. It was a nice collection, for what it was. Most of the pieces were quite uniform in shape and weight, obviously the work of a meticulous craftsman. These would likely end up mounted in a shadowbox or a display case somewhere, and serve as an interesting conversation piece. I hoped they went to a hunter, someone who could appreciate the objects for their use.

By three o'clock I was through. I went upstairs and poked my head into Brenda's office to let her know I was leaving. She was on the phone but waved goodbye at me. I passed by the parlor on my way out where Donald Callaway sat with a human couple. I gave a little smile as I passed by but he called me back.

"Miss Stackhouse, won't you join us for a moment?"

This is the downside to dressing up; the other brokers all assume I'm ready to meet the clients all day. Had I been wearing my normal clothes he would have ignored me. I was obliged to shake hands with the two, though I didn't make to sit down. They had brought some jewelry they were ready to part with and Donald was trying to convince them to have him out to appraise some of their furniture. I politely answered a few of their questions. The pieces they hoped to auction were actually quite lovely, Turkish gold work.

"The bracelet in particular is stunning," I complimented. "How did you come by them?"

"An estate sale, years and years ago," the woman said. She looked about forty-five, if that. Once again I found myself thinking that time is relative. "At the time I thought I might actually wear them myself, but they just don't go with anything, really."

I grinned at her as I imagined trying to match a short little cocktail dress to nine hundred year old religious jewelry from the Byzantine Empire. I admired her taste, but rather than continuing what could have been an interesting conversation about the style of dress popular in that age, I had to make my excuses. I told our clients it was lovely to meet them and that I looked forward to taking a closer look at what they'd brought us. A wave of weariness hit me again as I left the room and thankfully I don't think anyone but Holly caught me stifling my yawn. Glancing at my watch I figured if I hustled I could get home and change and grab a power nap before I had to go see the vampire. That thought was my only impetus. I'd been lagging all day. What else can you expect when you're up half the night on vampire errands?

I took advantage of the car ride home to call Mr. Cataliades and let him know that my presence was requested again.

"I suppose if you've agreed to help with this matter, you'll need to see it through," he said.

"That's what I was thinking. It's not really a second request but the same request, or so I hope. This guy Bobby truly didn't know what the summons was about."

"I've heard nothing here about Ms. Ravenscroft," he said carefully. I was surprised he had looked into the matter. Mr. Cataliades is privy to an awful lot of confidential information about vampires, being Queen Sophie-Anne's advocate, and all.

Yeah, it's a pretty precarious position I'm in here. Sometimes I do think it would be best to just "come out" as what I am and not hide my telepathy. Great Grandfather thinks that's a really terrible idea. He wants me to stay under the radar as much as possible, with as much protection as possible. My sponsor has his own enemies, and so too does my Great Grandfather. The difference between the two is that Niall's enemies would freely use me to hurt him, just like they did my father, and my grandfather. I guess that's really all I need think about to remind myself why keeping all these secrets is necessary. Mr. Cataliades had been my grandfather's best friend. This is why he was willing to go out on a limb for me as well.

"I'll pass that along," I said.

"Do call when you return home tonight, Miss Stackhouse. Before dawn, as before."

"I will."

"I will speak to you then. Good luck."

I turned on to my street and pulled into my driveway. It's not much, my little house, but I like it. Apartments are a no-go if I ever hope to relax at home. This house is separated enough from the others around it that I don't hear my neighbors unless I'm actually trying to. I do not try to. I tested the range when I first moved in, and haven't done it again since. I let myself in to the house and locked the door behind me. I slipped off my heels and lowered my shields and felt like I would melt into puddle right there on the floor. I wandered blearily into my room, stripped off my suit, and hung it up. I set the alarm on my phone for four-thirty and fell asleep in my underwear right on top of the bed.

I awoke to pitch black and pounding in my head and somewhere nearby. My window. I fumbled in my bedside table for the only actual weapon I owned; a double bladed dagger made of iron and silver. Actually the silver half of the blade has a lead core for the sake of balance, but it's still all-purpose supe defense.

I crept to the window and glanced sidelong between the curtain and the pane of glass. A huge fist was pounding against the frame. At this proximity it nearly rattled me as well. Based on the logic that anyone who really wanted to could have smashed the panes by now, I hazarded a better peek. Sheriff Northman was there with no happy face. Once he saw me, the pounding stopped. He started to speak, but of course I couldn't hear him so I pointed toward the front of the house. I grabbed my robe and my phone and went to meet him at the door. As I became more awake I realized I'd overslept. I'd set the alarm for four-thirty in the morning, apparently. It was nearly eight. Oops.

"Sheriff Northman, I'm so sorry, I must have overslept," I said as I opened the door.

"I must speak with you. May I come in?" he asked. I frowned. He stared.

"Alright. Please come in, but I reserve the right to rescind your invitation at any time."

I stepped aside so he could enter and he did, casting his eyes around my little living room and the open kitchen and dining room. They finally came to rest on the hand where I was still gripping my dagger.

"Do you intend to use that?"

"I didn't know who was banging," I said defensively. "I was still half asleep."

He gestured for me to show him the blade, and so I held it up. It's not like I was going to hand it to him. He gave it a close and appraising look.

"What an interesting object," he remarked.

I lowered the dagger before he could say anything else. "Why's that?" I couldn't help but ask. "A woman living alone needs to be able to defend herself, and I don't keep a gun in the house."

"Of course, Sookie. But defend from what? Iron and silver was it? Do most women living alone really fear werewolves and fairies?"

They sure as heck would if they knew about them.

"It works just as well on humans and vampires too," I declared stoutly.

"Does it really?"

"Well, it would," I muttered. "Look, tell me about Pam. Is she alright?"

"I do not know."

"You didn't find her?"

"No. Go and dress, we have matters to discuss before we must go."

I sighed and gestured him toward the living room, telling him to have a seat as I retreated back to my bedroom and pulled on some jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater. I glanced in the mirror, somewhat surprised that my hair wasn't a total fright. I guess I'd been pretty dead to the world, no tossing or turning. I still pulled it down, brushed it, and braided it up. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. All this didn't take more than ten minutes or so. I carried my socks and sneakers with me out to the living room and sat down to put them on. The vampire was pacing like a caged animal.

"Go on then," I told him.

"With the...help...of this Dirk, we were able to find the cell of drainers quite quickly after I returned last night."

I could only imagine how Dirk had been convinced to "help." I couldn't contain my shudder, and the vampire caught it.

"He was very willing to offer information once he realized his predicament."

"It doesn't count as 'willing' when the alternative is brutal violence, you know."

"I do know. I also know a coward when I smell one. It required shockingly little threat to gain his full compliance."

"Charming."

"And he was glamoured and released, though I know where to find him again if this is necessary."

"How benevolent," I said, as dryly as "charming" had been.

He shot me an irritated look. "We have detained the actual drainers. We were able to recover the vampire they had most recently taken. He is severely weak, and almost drained, but he will survive."

I softened at that. "I'm glad," I said. "But you didn't find Pam?"

"No. And these men we took claim they don't know her."

"You don't believe them."

"I would like you to help me to be sure."

"Alright," I said.

"They have been roughed up a little."

"_All right_," I said through gritted teeth.

"I only wish to warn you of the state in which you will find them. They are murderers. They have received more mercy than they are due, only because if they have knowledge of Pam, I must have it first."

"Before you kill them."

"Before justice is done to them."

"So you're the law then?" I asked flatly.

"I am certain you understand the meaning of 'Sheriff.'"

I scowled at him. He narrowed his eyes right back at me. "If it will beget your acquiescence, Miss Stackhouse, once Pam is secured I will turn the men over to the human authorities, so that they can be free from jail awaiting a trial that will result in a slap on the wrist for a minor assault charge, because their latest victim happened to survive."

"Have there been others?" I asked softly.

"We think maybe one other in my Area. Nearly everyone else is accounted for. It is a matter I will follow up on once Pam is returned."

"You still feel her?"

"Yes. It is not the same as when we are separated by a far distance."

I yawned. "We need to stop for coffee on the way, okay? Last night wreaked havoc on my sleeping and tonight will be no better I'm sure."

I didn't say anything more about the fate of the drainers. I knew that what he said about what would happen to them if they were turned in was pretty much accurate. There had been a big national news story about a team of drainers on trial out in California a couple of months ago. The state was pressing for multiple counts of murder, but without any bodies there was no proof but the blood, and the jury found that blood did not equate to murder. Two of the men had ended up getting convicted only of possession of an illicit substance and the last man got off entirely. The vampire community had been eerily silent. There were a number of outraged human advocates, but the vamps it seemed, were unsurprised. The whole thing made me angry and sad. I may be leery of vampires for personal reasons, but I didn't hate them or wish their deaths.

"You will come now then?" he asked.

I didn't have to be able to read his mind to sense his worry. That he hadn't threatened me tonight (yet) also hadn't gone unnoticed. I nodded at him and stood, slipping my phone, keys, and wallet into my pockets. I held open the door for him and locked it behind me, walking past him off my small front porch. Once again I found myself halfway to the driveway before looking up and realizing that the car I'd been ready to enter was nowhere to be seen. I stopped short and spun around. He was right behind me.

"Am I driving?" I asked.

"No."

"Oh, where's your car?"

"Fangtasia."

I stared at him blankly.

"This will be faster," he said. He took one quick step toward me and wrapped an arm around my waist and another beneath my arms, hugging me to him tightly. I barely had time to shriek before we were bolting into the air, my tiny house growing tinier still. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.


	4. A Brain of Vampires, and a Heart of Lead

A/N: Characters and setting are owned by the wonderful Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, who is quite marvelous in her own right. Thank you to both! There's another note at the bottom.

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Chapter 4 - A Brain of Vampires, and a Heart of Lead

He set me down beside a building and I stumbled backwards two steps to the brick wall. My fingers threaded between the masonry and I slunk to the ground. I'm sure I must have breathed at some point in the last few minutes, but it certainly didn't feel like it. I stared at the asphalt, glittering in a distant orange light, trying to focus on that while I calmed down. It's a good thing I hadn't eaten in hours. Holy crap.

_I flew!_

Well, technically he did the flying, but I was right along for the ride. A hand descended into my field of vision.

"Come. We shouldn't stay out here."

"Where's here?" I asked, taking his hand and letting him pull me up as much as I stood myself.

"A warehouse." He pulled open a door to my right. Before I followed him inside I glanced around just enough to note that the location was very isolated. Presumably this is where the drainers were being held for questioning.

"Don't do that again without warning me," I said as I followed him inside. My voice still sounded a little shaky to me. If he noticed, he didn't comment. He said nothing at all.

We passed through two dark rooms where I could just make out some office furniture, and then into a dimly lit hallway. No, not a hallway, an aisle. There were loaded palettes stacked up almost to the roof. The dim illumination must have been coming from lights in a different part of the ceiling. I followed him as he turned a corner and we wound our way through short corridors as though they were a maze he'd already solved. As we walked, I cast out, but there were only two humans and us.

"No guards?" I asked.

"Sent away for now. Through here," he said, and indicated a narrower passage. I imagine anyone under age eleven could spend hours exploring in here. We entered a wider space, a room. It was darker here than it had been on the other side of the makeshift walls. "Will you need light?" he asked.

"Best not." I didn't want to get too good a look at the men. I could smell blood and sweat and fouler things in the air. It wasn't choking, but it was there. If I could pick it up, he definitely could.

"Are you in control of yourself right now?" I asked him. I hoped it was pointedly, and not quavering. I was actually pretty nervous.

"I have fed well tonight. You are in no danger." Don't worry, Sook! I already ate some guys earlier. You'll be fine! Actually, it was probably girls. Certainly there were boy fangbangers, but just judging by what I'd seen the night before, most of Eric's fans were female.

I let my eyes adjust a bit more to the deeper darkness. Stepping closer to the men I could see that were bound to chairs with hoods over their heads. Very GITMO.

"Do you need them to speak?" he asked.

I shook my head, trusting that he'd see it. I could see him no problem, glowing away over there like a night light. It looked brighter than it had the night before. Did it just seem that way because it was darker in here, or was it because of his recent feeding? I focused all of my attention on the nearer man as I reached out and lifted the back of the hood enough to rest my hands on the back of his neck. I shuddered involuntarily as his fear and rage washed over me.

"Do you drain vampire blood?" I questioned. I listening in as the thoughts began to form in his head, memories and mental pictures flashing up to the surface. I began to steer them. "How many vampires have you drained? When was the first?" More images and scattered words came to the fore. His feelings sickened me, but I pressed on. "Who is Clint? How much money did you make off the last vamp? Who was your next target? Do you ever target females? Have you ever been to Fangtasia? Where did you find the vampire Liam? Who is Jerry? Where do you keep the vampires?"

I had to pull away after a while.

I was vaguely aware that I was crying. The things in his head were awful. It made my skin crawl. I felt filthy, and I wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but still standing beside him. The vampires they'd taken, some from here, and some from Mississippi, and some from Florida, had not only been drained, but abused by these two men, two other men, and a woman. They were less than human. It was _fun_ to them. They wiled away the hours as the blood drained raping, flaying, cutting until the wounds stopped healing. They burned their hair and doused them and burned it again. Vampires are afraid of fire, almost innately. It is worse than silver, which only causes pain and weakness. Fire will kill them, sure as sunshine.

They didn't think of vampires like people, not even animals. At least, I prayed that no one was so depraved that they could do these things to an animal. I'd watched my brother Jason clean fish a million times. Even deer. That was disgusting, but it has been done dispassionately. And the animals were _dead_. These people had severed a vampire's limbs like a child might cleave an earthworm, just to see what happened. They had treated them like _things_. It was profoundly horrifying. I didn't want to continue.

"Is it Pam?" Eric asked. I shook my head.

"The others," I said softly.

"How many?"

"Seven."

"You weep for the vampires these men have killed?"

"Not killed. Killing is kind in comparison. Killing is quick."

I told him everything I could about the vampires who had been drained by these two. I did it now because I wouldn't want to think about it again. I knew I would, but not by choice. I told him about the men and the woman who hadn't been apprehended. I knew this wasn't why we were here, but he could sort it all out later. By the time I'd finished I had a handle on myself enough to step up to the second man. I'd seen all I needed to see about the vampires. These two hadn't taken Pam.

The second man was similarly hostile, but also truly terrorized. He had sat here listening to me describe each of their victims, as well as their friends. He believed he would die screaming. I believed he was right.

"How do you know Dirk Palfry?" I asked. Dirk was a buyer of vampire blood. That is also how he'd come to work for them. This time I told Eric everything as I heard it. It caused more confusion in the murder's mind as he kept distracting himself trying to figure out what was going on, but it kept me more focused too, and it kept me from looking for the things I never wanted to see again.

"You said the guys at your club didn't know Dirk."

"Correct."

"But this guy knows Dirk as a fangbanger. That's how he got addicted to V," I said, using the slang name for blood as a drug. "They used him to scout because they figured he already had some cred in y'all's community, and also because that's the job where you're most likely to get caught, and they didn't mind if he got caught, since he deserved it for screwing vamps in the first place," I finished, pulling my hands away from the man.

"You never saw him before?" I asked Eric.

"I do not work at the door, scrutinizing the IDs and the faces."

"Who does?"

"Usually Pam."

I sighed and walked to the little passage that would lead me toward blessedly clean air. A moment later he slipped out behind me and started leading the way toward the entrance. I wasn't ready for another flight yet, so when we got to it, I slumped down onto the hard sofa in the front office.

"I just need a minute," I said, when he turned to look back at me. He stood there for what I am sure was a perfect count to sixty, and then when I didn't make to move, he sat down as well.

"You are very upset by what you saw in the men's heads," he observed.

"Yes. I am."

"These things are part of life."

"Not mine."

"The memories will not weigh on you for long. You will soon think of other things." I figured he was speaking from experience.

"Will you enjoy killing them?" I asked.

"I will take satisfaction from their deaths, yes."

I didn't say anything. I was trying to figure out if I'd be satisfied by their deaths. A part of me thought that no, I wouldn't. That it wasn't enough. I hated that thought, but it stayed with me.

"I think we should go talk to Jack Mason, and find out how he knows Dirk, and if he knows Pam. These drainers didn't take her. We missed something."

"Alright."

"How's Daphne holding up?" I asked him.

"Clancy informed me that she has gone to stay with her friend."

"Maybe between the pair of them they'll remember to take care of themselves."

"Are you ready to go now?" he queried.

"We're not flying all the way there, right?"

"No. We will take the car."

I stood and followed him out the door which he relocked behind us. He made a very quick phone call informing whoever was meant to guard this building that they could return to their post. I held my arms up so he could get an easier grip on me, but he had me clutch around his middle instead. He pulled his arms around me again and lifted us. This time I peeked once or twice during the flight. Despite what had transpired thus far this evening, I had to admit this was kind of cool. It was, at least, a momentary distraction. We landed beside his car and I had a much easier time regaining my composure. We were in the Fangtasia parking lot, but had no plans to stay. He opened the passenger door for me and I settled in. I yawned and stretched as he got into the driver's seat.

We were headed east out of the city when he turned into a shopping center and parked in front of a chain coffee shop. He looked at me expectantly and I remembered that I had told him we would need to stop for coffee. Well, he might not remember when it comes to human pets, but clearly he was able to grasp the concept that his telepath required fuel.

I got out of the car and went inside. I bought a small cup of coffee and a slice of lemon pound cake, which I ate right there in the shop. I figured vampires of all people would probably be fussy about eating in the car. Once I'd gotten in there and seen the huge display case filled with pastries, it was hard not to remember that I hadn't eaten since lunchtime. I gulped down the scalding coffee too, and then used the bathroom, splashing some cool water on my face after I washed my hands. I wasn't more than a few minutes when I returned to the Corvette, feeling a lot better than I had when I went inside.

"Thanks," I offered, buckling up.

He inhaled deeply. "You smell of lemon."

"Yeah, I was hungry. Sorry if it bothers you," I shrugged. I wasn't feeling particularly sorry about it, but I cracked my window anyway, even though it was cold outside.

We made the drive to Jack Mason's home in silence. I turned my head toward the window and let my eyes close, thinking back to Diane and the salon and the night before, anything that wasn't the men in the warehouse, really. I was shaken awake abruptly by a hand on my shoulder.

"We are here," Eric said.

"Oh. Good." I looked around and saw that we were parked in front of a darkened house with a large yard surrounded by trees at the perimeter. It looked maybe an acre large. Maybe two, if it went back real far. It was pretty typical for the area. Land is cheap out here and houses tend to be small.

"Do you require all this sleep because of the tax on your ability?" he asked.

"I require all this sleep because I don't keep _vampire_ hours," I snapped. "Most humans go to sleep at night," I informed him, since he was apparently pretending not to know that.

He gave me a long look in response to my small outburst, before deciding to ignore it. Turning back toward the house he asked, "Is he inside?"

I forced my mind outwards until I found the nearest human brain.

"He is," I informed the Sheriff. "In fact, he's _sleeping_."

He got out of the car and started moving to the side of the house. I knew he was likely honing in on Jack's bedroom. Eric was moving fast, and it was strange to watch. It wasn't the near instantaneous movement, where you blink and they've shifted a dozen feet away. It was more like if you were watching a video of someone creeping along, only in fast forward. Definitely an odd sight. When I stepped out of the car to follow him, I was immediately hit by the smell of magic. It wasn't oppressive, but it was present. It tasted...sour and maybe also...earthy? Loam? I was still standing there trying to identify what I was sensing when Eric returned.

"Do you smell that?" I asked, distracted. I heard him inhale deeply.

"I smell grass and pine and motor oil, the sleeping human, and you. What do you smell?"

"I don't know," I said, frowning. "Did you wake him up?"

"I found an open window. I can't enter the house." Well duh. People knew that much before they even knew vampires were real. It's kind of funny to think of a phrase like "safe as houses," and realize part of the reason that ever came to be a common saying is standing right in front of you sporting boots and a pony tail.

"Well I'm not going in there. Go bang on his bedroom window. I can speak from experience, it's very effective."

"I was banging for several minutes before you even stirred."

"Really? I hope my neighbors didn't hear," I said. "Go do it anyway, we need him to wake up." I might have been surprised that he just obeyed if I weren't so engrossed in analyzing the magic. It could have been just wards, but I didn't think I'd feel them like this, if they were. The magic wasn't acting on me; it was simply in the air. Why could I feel it, if he didn't? I wasn't sure if I should mention it outright, but what if it did start to work on either one of us?

If anything the smell grew more intense as I followed the distant banging to the rear of the house. It wasn't terribly loud. Maybe you could pass it off for some late night decorating; hanging shelves or a painting or something. Jack's neighbors probably weren't near enough to hear it at all.

"Eric," I hissed. I felt the brain inside begin to rouse. "He's waking up. Listen," I began, but Eric took off to the front of the house, and shortly after I heard knocking on the front door. With a pained sigh, I trotted back round to the front again.

"Eric, listen to me!" I said again, but he wasn't listening. Maybe I wasn't speaking loudly enough. The light flipped on in front of the house and then the door swung open.

"Hello?" I heard the unknown man's voice coming from just inside the house. I couldn't see much of him, obscured by the flimsy screen door that fronted the more secure steel one.

"Jack Mason?"

"Who are you?"

"Look at me, Jack Mason," I heard Eric say. Like his sister it seemed Jack was smart enough not to look vampires straight in the eye.

"Who the hell are you? Oh FUCK," he finished with a shout, clearly finding the answer to his own question.

Jack said something I couldn't make out and all of a sudden Eric snarled, growled like a beast and lunged for the door which shook on its hinges and the magic smell flared up as suddenly as a struck match. I felt it stream outward from the house, flowing harmlessly around me like a gust of wind. Then Eric was moving backwards, past his car, to the end of the driveway. I stared back and forth between Jack and Eric, unseen so far by Jack, but that would last about a second. I darted closer to the house. He wouldn't see me now unless he left the house, and it'd be pretty freaking stupid to leave the house right now after whatever he'd just done to Eric.

I dropped my shields entirely.

_Fuck fuck. The maker. Fuck fuck. How did he find me? Spell worked, thank fucking goddess. Have to call the coven, but now how will they get past him? Sunrise. Wait for sunrise. Seven hours. FUCK._

The door slammed shut a split second before a heavy rock struck right through the screen and bounced back off the steel. I glanced back at the vampire stalking the edge of the property now and though I couldn't see the look on his face, I knew it would be terrifying.

_Can't wait another day. Tomorrow before sunset, before they rise. She doesn't have to be awake until the end. Not weak enough, still resisting._

His thoughts got more muddled then, random tools, supplies, people to contact, just a stream of names and objects, not clear thinking, not even clear mental images. No specifics to his plan. Frustration, doubt, urgency. I felt him come near the front of the house again and look out the window at Eric, but he ducked away quickly. I seriously hoped the vampire wouldn't throw anything else with me still standing here.

_Goddess Gaia mother of Earth, make the land my home and let me dwell upon your soil, beneath your endless sky. Make your sun my hearth, make bed of moss my resting place. Grant me shelter beneath your trees...Goddess Gaia mother of Earth, make the land my home..._

Jack was praying. Over and over he recited, and I felt his mind shift into a kind of trance. I looked toward the Sheriff. He had stopped stalking back and forth at least. I crept across the lawn toward him, half running, hunched over, as if that would actually be any help evading sight here under cover of absolutely nothing at all.

The instant I stepped across the property line Eric was in front of me with a hand on either elbow holding me in place, not that I'd have any chance of escaping him. I was slightly eased by the fact that he looked stricken, rather than furious.

"He is a witch?" Eric demanded.

"Yes," I answered quickly. "He's praying to Gaia. I think he did a spell to make the whole property his home and then rescinded your invitation. Did you get hurt?"

"No. I felt her."

"Pam?"

"Just before I was pushed."

"Where?"

"Close, I think, it was barely an instant. Now, it is as it has been."

"There is magic everywhere in there, I tried to tell you. Are you sure it was her?"

"I'm sure."

"He is too afraid to call for backup. He's going to wait you out and then do whatever it is he plans to do tomorrow at sunset, but he doesn't think it will work, because she's still fighting whatever it is they're doing to her."

"What is he doing to her? What does he plan to do?"

"I don't know," I hissed frantically, struggling to keep my voice low. "I listened until he went into some kind of stupor, he was mostly just freaking out, no clear thoughts, now, I think he is only reinforcing the spell."

"You must go and search the rest of the property," he informed me.

"What?"

"I can't enter."

Frowning, I stepped back on to Jack's land, feeling the spells at work as I did so.

"Eric Northman, please come in," I said firmly. He shook his head. "I had to try," I shrugged.

"It's not your home, but you are a human, so you can enter at will. It must be you."

"I'm not going up against an angry witch!" I spat.

"You said he is distracted now. You can go quickly and search. You said you felt the magic. Did you feel Pam?"

"I don't think so. I wasn't looking at that moment."

"Go and be sure," he said, now starting to urge me back toward the property. He seemed as fraught as I felt, and that was really saying something. Vampires don't often lose their cool.

"Sheriff!" I pushed back at him but he still clutched my arm. "Ouch! Stop!" I shrieked, and I broke away. He glared at me for a long moment and then took one step backwards.

"I cannot call another vampire. If the magic that protects a home covers the whole property, and I agree this is what it feels like, then another vampire will not be able to enter. If she is there, I must know. If he plans to act soon, I must know _now_."

I looked back at the house, reaching for Jack. He was still on steady drone.

If his child did die because I wouldn't help, my life would be forfeit. Not killed, but captured. Taken. Used. Not only would he see no further reason to protect my secret, he would blame me, and hate me, and want whatever badness descended on me in retribution. Or maybe he'd show up one night and just drain me himself. No. Probably not that. He was more creative than that. I'd seen that at the warehouse. A shudder ran through me and I shook all over. Minutes passed as I stood there in silence, my face blank, but my mind busy.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" I said bitterly. He said nothing.

"Find more rocks," I said with dull resignation. "And follow me around from the neighbors' yards. I expect you to bean him if he pulls out of his reverie and comes outside."

He didn't answer me, but he did pace away to the ditch at the side of the road, presumably following my instruction. I felt another chill run through me as I stepped back across the threshold of the protective magic. I walked back past Eric's car, still in the driveway, blocking in Jack's car, right up by the house, then around to the left. Jack had changed up his prayer a little bit, imploring his goddess for guidance, strength, and protection. I could only hope if she was listening, that she'd take the broad view of this situation.

I glanced to my side and saw the faint glow of Eric fading in and out as he passed the pine trees that ringed this land. I felt him there, but I needed the visual assurance. I walked clear to the edge of the property, across its back, and up the other side. I searched for a second void and came up with nothing. There was a single outbuilding, maybe twenty meters from the house, just a small tool shed. As I got closer I realized the tinge of magic was more potent there. I don't know what I'd been looking for in the rest of the yard. My courage maybe? I'd wanted to be sure there was nothing else farther back, I guess. I felt horribly uneasy and reluctant to go nearer. I realized the feelings weren't entirely my own. There was strong repelling magic here. I guess I'd come to the right place.

I walked back to the perimeter of the property. I knew the impulse to move away wasn't my own, but I followed it anyway.

"Do you sense her?" he asked, when I was close enough to hear him.

"Nothing. But there's something with that shed. I'm going to go and look. Please watch my back," I said seriously. "Please."

"Where?"

I pointed to the shadowy building a little way off behind me. It was just a darker shadow in the moonlight to my human eyes from here, but surely he could see it with his vampire vision. He nodded slowly. "I will watch."

Jack's mind had gone dull inside the house. Likely his anxiety attack had worn him into exhaustion. I knew that feeling. I had to push myself toward the shed with the kind of effort it must take to climb mountains. I could feel myself slouching forward as I let physics and gravity fight against magic. When I finally reached the door, I let out a bark of mad laughter. No lock. After all that, I'd have been completely stymied by a three dollar padlock, but there wasn't one. I pressed my hand to the wall of the shed, wrenched the door open, and stepped inside. The relief was immediate.

The air was stale and warm, but the effects of the spell had dissipated. I could see nothing, so I just stood and breathed and let my eyes adjust again. I felt the void beneath me now. It was faint, but it was there, and close. Whatever spells had obscured her had been on the shed. That was something I would like to know more about. Wards that could conceal minds, I'd like some for my own home. I moved forward, inching around garden tools and a ride-on lawnmower. I saw a faint sliver of light coming from the floor and I knelt, trying to feel around for a handle, weaving back and forth over the tiny crack to try to keep it in view.

Finally I found a latch and wrenched it upwards I was momentarily blinded by the brilliant incandescent light and a wave of heat. I squeezed my eyes shut and blinked until I could see. There was a little ladder. I pushed the trapdoor all the way back. "I am the stupidest woman in the state of Louisiana," I said out loud as I lowered myself down.

What I saw once I descended could not be farther from what I expected. I'd anticipated a damp and fetid dungeon. An abused, starving vampire chained to a wall in silver, the reek of burning flesh befouling the air. What I saw was just a room. A vampire resting on a cot that had been made up with soft pink sheets and pillows folded over a yellow chenille blanket. She wore no shoes, but she had on a prim powder blue track suit, the kind bought by women who don't actually intend to work out. Her pale blond hair was held back with a headband. There was a shabby white table beside her bed, with a six pack of synthetic blood sitting upon it. Two bottles were missing. So they'd been feeding her. One of the dozen tense knots inside me slowly loosened as I registered that.

There were a dozen sun lamps all pointed at her, the kind that people who really love their houseplants have. Or the kind you see on the news used by people growing marijuana in secret underground rooms. Rooms exactly like this one, actually. She wasn't being burned by them, so there was a myth busted.

"Pam?" I said tremulously. There was no response.

I started switching the lamps off, one by one, trying to get her attention after each one. I got to the last one, and fully prepared to switch it back on immediately if she proceeded to go nuts, in case this actually did account for her catatonia. Even in the dead darkness, she did not respond to her name. I flipped the last light back on and pointed it away from her, so it lit the space without blinding me.

I had no idea how I was going to get her out of here. I was just moving closer to her when I heard a shout above, abruptly cut off and a thud on the ground. With another glance at Pam, still showing no change, I rushed to the ladder and peeked my head up, listening. There was one unconscious brain about a dozen feet away from me. Good job, Sheriff. I pulled myself up and out, and once I was back outside, I found it much easier to move away from the shed and toward the supine figure of Jack Mason.

He was out cold. I knelt down and felt his pulse, which was present, and that was enough. I wasn't going to risk getting his blood on me. As I stood up, I noticed something silver and shining on the ground beside him. Padlock. I shook my head and huffed out a sigh and ran over to the side of the property.

"Still can't come in?" I panted.

"No."

"She's down there. She's... well, she seems fine, except for being totally glamoured."

"Vampires can't be glamoured."

"Okay, worry about the vocabulary another time. That's how she seems. She's not restrained, they've been feeding her. It looks like someone even brushed her hair. But she doesn't respond to me, and there's no possible way I can lift her out of there."

"She is bespelled?"

"I guess so. Look, the witch is out cold. Thank you, by the way. Call up one of your Were bodyguards now, someone who's strong enough to lift her out of there. I'd say vamps, but it'd be a waste of time if they came all the way here and found they can't enter the property either. Get her to a safe place now and you can figure out the magic later, okay?"

Instead of answering, he took out his phone and dialed. "Dawson. This is Eric Northman. I am aware of that. I am sending you an address, and I need you to come immediately. No. Immediately. Yes. Red Chute. Ninety minutes then." He sent off a message, presumably with the address, then made another call to someone else to go and replace this Dawson at where ever he'd be coming from. When he was done he looked down at me again.

"Bring me the witch," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Bring me the witch, so when he wakes up, I can glamour him right away. He will not stay out like that indefinitely."

He didn't appear to be kidding, so I trudged over and hooked my arms under Jack Mason's, and step by slow and increasingly exhausting step, I pulled him on his butt all the way over to the edge of the property, whereupon the vampire proceeded to hoist him easily over one shoulder. Unfair.

"Give me your keys," I told him.

"Why?"

"You can't get back to your car. I'll move it out to the road."

He tossed me his keys and I walked across the lawn, absolutely weary. I had to lean way up in the seat, but I was able to back the car out into the road. I tripped as I was getting out and thrust my hand out to break my fall, realizing only when the pain shot through my hand and radiated up my arm that I'd landed hard on the finger I'd injured the day before. I cried out. Eric was at my side in a flash.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"I just split my damned finger open again," I grumbled.

"Do you want my assistance with that?" he asked.

"Do you have any duct tape?" I figured he probably wouldn't keep a first-aid kit in his car. Just a hunch.

"In the trunk."

"Well, you can assist me by getting a piece, please." Definitely his turn to do the legwork.

"I can heal the wound," he offered.

"Yes, just the duct tape please."

He went and got it, and took the liberty of slapping a piece over the witch's mouth. Jack Mason had been lain down by the side of the car, obscured from the road. He handed me the roll of tape and I just taped right over the bandage. This would be a pain to clean off, but it would contain the blood, which was the main bit. I handed him back the roll and got into the passenger seat of the car. We had a long wait ahead of us, but I didn't notice, because I fell asleep again almost instantly.

I was laying on my own couch when I woke up, and I started, confused by the new surroundings. I looked around me and saw my phone, keys, and wallet sitting on my coffee table. I looked up and Eric was standing over me, eyes on me, but talking into his phone. I rubbed my head and dragged myself into a sitting position as he finished his call.

"Did you get her?" I asked blearily.

"Yes. She has been taken to a safe location until we determine what has happened to her. The witch too, has been safely moved. I will need you to question him tomorrow night. It will be dawn soon."

"Yeah, fine. Sure."

"Do you need to call your sponsor?"

I reached for my phone and pushed the speed-dial.

"Good morning, Miss Stackhouse."

"Hi Mr. Cataliades. I'm just calling to let you know I'm home. The sheriff is here. We got Pam, but he is telling me my services will be required again tomorrow. I'm dead tired, and I have to be at work in, oh, three and a half hours, but he didn't abduct me and sell me to his Queen tonight, so yay for that."

"In-deed," he replied ponderously.

"Sorry, feeling a little crabby right now."

"I'm sure the reasoning is understandable. Please phone again tomorrow, my dear."

"Will do. 'Night."

I set my alarm for seven-thirty, double and triple checking that it was seven-thirty in the _morning_.

"What?" I asked, shoving every ounce of petulance into my voice that I could muster. It probably wasn't all that much. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open.

"You are more than you appear to be," he said.

"Oh yeah?" I said, pulling myself to my feet with a monumental effort. I walked toward my door, thinking he would take the hint.

"Are you sure you do not wish me to heal your wound?"

"Quite sure. Please leave now, I need to go to sleep."

"You were very helpful tonight."

"That's me, Miss Helpful."

"I will come here at nine tomorrow, so you can sleep after your work, as well."

"That's very generous of you Eric, good night now."

"Good night Sookie," he said, as he finally left my house. I pushed the door closed behind him and locked it, grabbed my phone, and went to bed.

My terribly obnoxious alarm woke me up just when I intended it to, which was a great, if not welcome, relief. I cut the tape off my finger with some tiny silver scissors as I waited for the shower to steam up and gasped when I saw the amount of semi-dried blood that had come through the bandage. Removing that, I saw a huge, dark blister of blood had formed on my fingertip and it stung like all get out. Maybe I should have just let him heal it. I was careful with it as I climbed under the scalding water, letting it wash away the various stresses of the last two days. I finally emerged just before the water started going cold, finally feeling halfway human. Only three-eighths shy of my norm.

* * *

A/N: I do not really like to do long notes explaining things, but we are still early on here. I feel compelled to speak up, in case you were looking for something that this story _isn't; y_ou can bow out now, and no hard feelings.

#1 - This Sookie is not a "super Sookie." This is set chronologically about the same time as Club Dead, the winter after her 26th birthday. She has had about 7.5 years more exposure to the supe world and its entire bag of tricks than Sookie as we met her in Dead Until Dark. She's certainly a smidgen more "red," but most of what she's got more of is knowledge and experience. I definitely intend to continue working what she's got, but this will be extrapolating the hints and impressions I've taken from canon.

#2 - Eric won't be treated with the keyboard of correction here. He's unashamedly himself - a thousand year old vampire who is not conflicted about doing what he feels he must. Yes, his interest is already piqued. Yes, he's nigh irresistible. Yes, I love Eric and Sookie as a couple. But it'll be a long and bumpy road. I'll try to throw in a few rest stops and some scenic vistas along the way, but I'm not going to stop him from doing or being the wrong thing, sometimes. It's fair that you know that up front.

#3 - All that being said, this is my favorite chapter so far. Did you like it? /needy, shameless :D


	5. Ruffled Vampires

A/N: Thank you for the love last chapter. Of course now you've spoiled me with your reviews, and are obligated to keep it up. ;) I really do appreciate those who take the time to let me know you like the story though. The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Ms. Charlaine "I sure do like to kill people!" Harris, who is just lovely. This story is being beta'd by peachy keen and remarkable FiniteAnarchy.

* * *

Chapter 5 - Ruffled Vampires

I said hello to Dan Shelley, the guard on the door today as I arrived at Splendide. I liked Dan a lot. He was particularly conscientious. I'd managed to make it in before Brenda, but Holly was back in the lounge fixing the coffee. I pulled my box of breakfast bars down out of the cabinet. Normally I eat at home, but I just didn't feel like cooking today.

"Good morning," I tried to sound cheerful.

"Hey Sookie," she smiled at me. Holly seemed like a genuinely nice person. I was always glad to chat with her. "You're in early," she observed.

"I've got a lot to do today. Those guys we met with yesterday brought some good stuff."

"Rare?" she asked, with polite interest. Holly is mainly just the receptionist, though she's also a bit of the office mom. She waters the plants and does the coffee in the mornings, and makes sure the bathroom is in order. I think Brenda has started delegating the supply ordering to her as well. Holly doesn't have a particular interest in history or anthropology, though she's learned about the antiques business a little bit. She didn't go to college. She had a little boy, instead, which I'm sure was an education unto itself. She liked working here. The hours were set and steady, and she liked to dress professionally. She always looked pretty at work.

"Very," I agreed. "Actually, that Kenneth guy might be back today, they forgot to pack up one piece of the set."

"Ooo, the blue-eyed guy? I wouldn't mind seeing him again," she said with a mischievous smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"He sure was handsome," I agreed, grinning. I didn't bother mentioning that he'd hinted at interest in Gladiola, who wasn't known around here as Mr. Cataliades was. Gladiola and Diantha can only pass for human at a glance, and neither made much of an effort to blend in. It might have been some kind of reverse camouflage in the case of Diantha. She could easily be mistaken for a punk rocker for all the crazy outfits she wore, and so dismissed as just another weirdo human. Neither sister had ever visited me at Splendide as their uncle sometimes did.

"Did you have to go see the vamps last night?"

"Huh?" I asked. Her question startled me. No part of what I'd gotten up to the night before was water cooler chat.

"That guy who came in yesterday? Mr. Burnham? You said he worked for a vampire?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "He had something at his warehouse he wanted me to look at. Turned out to be pretty worthless though."

"Too bad," she said. "I bet a lot of them have picked up all kinds of stuff over the years."

I nodded. "Definitely."

"You okay Sookie? No offense really, but you look a little ragged."

On cue, I yawned again. "I'm just feeling worn out. I can't wait for this weekend, I'm going to sleep and do nothing for two days." I sincerely hoped that was true.

"All done with your Christmas shopping?" she asked.

"Mostly. I have a couple more things to pick up I guess, but my list isn't very long." I had my Gran, my brother Jason, Niall, and Mr. Cataliades, and a few small things for the people here at work. Niall and Mr. C wouldn't really care if I got them presents, not being celebrants of the human holiday themselves. It made me happy to give gifts to my loved ones though, and this was my only chance. They didn't exactly have birthdays. I don't think either really measured the passage of time in solar days.

"Good morning ladies," said Donald Callaway as he entered.

"Morning Don, looking sharp today!" beamed Holly, and Donald popped is thumbs under his lapels and did a quick turnaround, showing off his brown tweed suit.

I smiled pleasantly and excused myself. Donald's an okay guy. He certainly knows his antiques. He's always struck me as a little bit mercenary though. I know it's the job of brokers to try to maximize profits and their commissions, but I don't like aggressive businessmen in any context. I knew from reading his mind that he tended to undervalue things when dealing with people who weren't sure what they had, and that in general he drove a hard bargain. He's probably good for Splendide, but something about him just doesn't sit well with me. I don't have to be great friends with everyone I work with.

I went downstairs and fired up my equipment first thing, because it takes a little while to calibrate. Then I went back to the vault to retrieve my day's work. The vault setup is pretty high tech, 'Mission Impossible' kind of stuff. There's a retinal scan and a ten character access code. It can only be opened between certain hours of the day, and there are cameras inside and out. This might sound a little over the top, but the insurance for a business like this practically requires these measures. The things we store in here can be worth anywhere from a few thousand to a million dollars, or even more sometimes. This vampire adjudicator's set will be in the "even more" category. Some people would say that kind of thing was "priceless," but I knew for a certainty that there was no such thing in this world.

Reentering my authorization a second time to _leave_ the vault, I thought again about the conversation I'd had with Brenda about our security guards. Despite the jokes about Greg, I knew that most of our guys weren't pushovers. A lot of them had served on active duty in the military, and even though they'd retired to this cushy civilian gig, that training hadn't evaporated. The problem was that if it came down to an altercation between any human and a supe, the human was always the long shot, by leagues.

The various supernatural creatures don't mix with each other. That's a huge generalization of course. There are scads of exceptions on an individual basis, like the Were bodyguards who work for Eric the vampire, just to give an example. There's no annual All Supernatural Summer Barbeque where they all come together for camaraderie and potato sack races, is the point I'm getting at. They don't socialize. There's not a lot of neutral turf. Splendide is one of the few places that would qualify. We provide the supernatural community with valuable services; services that they couldn't provide for themselves, precisely because they don't have the contacts among all the various factions, nor the impartiality, that would make it feasible.

This is our main measure of security from supes, this "don't poo where you eat," scenario. It's my protection as well. I'm hiding in plain sight here, but I'm better off than if I'd stayed in Bon Temps. Maybe I could still be living with my Gran in the tiny town where I was raised even now, but sooner or later someone would come along and realize I was different, and try to find out why.

I settled down to my day's work. It doesn't take that long to test the actual mass-to-charge ratio (which is how we determine the age of inorganic things), but the preparation and analysis are pretty time consuming.

_How'd you spend your morning Sookie? Vaporizing fae-forged silver, you?_

Once I got my first sample in the cooker, I was able to make quick work of preparing the others. The brazier was particularly interesting, because there was trace ash therein. If I was lucky, I'd be able able to ballpark not only the date of creation, but the date of acquisition, well, presuming Mr. Herbahz had never used it himself.

I was hunched over my laptop, knee-deep in tiny, tiny numbers when I felt my boss approaching. Glancing down I saw it was already a bit after one in the afternoon. I realized I was very hungry.

"Time for lunch?" I asked brightly as Brenda entered.

"Sure," she agreed. "I wanted to check on progress."

I locked my computer and stood up stretching. "So far, so good," I said. "The quill is looking like twenty-two hundred years old and the gold knife is coming in right around the same age. I'm not done with the full specs that'll go to the buyer, but I can finish those up next week. I'll get you enough that you can start making calls before the weekend."

"I'm already making calls," she grinned. "Come on, you look like you could use a break. Holly said you got in right after her this morning."

"Well, my boss said she wanted me here at the crack of dawn, ruthless taskmistress that she is," I teased.

I followed her upstairs and after a little debate, we headed over to the local bar and grill. She let me chatter on about the radiometric dating and when the waiter came by to take our order I got an iced coffee instead of my usual sweet tea.

"Another late night then?" she asked, taking care to lower her voice.

"Yeah," I sighed, matching her volume. "And tonight again too."

"I told you..." she started. I put my hand up to stop her. Are you really entitled to say "I told you so," when no one ever disagreed with you? I don't think so.

"We made progress at least. I think this is the end of it."

"Good."

We talked a little more about the work on hand and some incoming pieces. One of our brokers would be returning from a trip to Biloxi late this afternoon. I let her know that I planned to be out by five since the vampire had graciously scheduled me a nap time and I fully intended on taking advantage of it. She had rolled her eyes at that but agreed I looked like I could use the sleep. Thanks Bren. She let me know she had her sister putting out feelers for some additional security after dark. I ate my hamburger and fries with so much gusto that I was left feeling a little queasy afterwards, but the walk back to Splendide helped to settle my stomach.

Someone was waiting around outside the lab when I went back downstairs and I was pleased to see it was Kenneth Glassport, bringing me a fine iron mail glove. I was absolutely delighted with it. If it dated to the rest of the set, it would be one of the earliest intact specimens of chainmail _anywhere_, in either the supe or the human world. The rings were so tiny, it must have taken ages to make. It was small, and though I dared not try it on, it seemed like it might even fit me.

It's something of a common misunderstanding that humans have greatly increased in size in the last few hundred years. They have, but only after first shrinking down a lot. Vast migration into disease-ridden cities and the shift from heartier lifestyles into ones of mere subsistence, with more limited availability of dietary proteins accounted for the growth stunt. Modern prosperity has now corrected that, and we're more or less back on track. Ignoring the fluctuations in the middle, average human height in the last thousand years has only increased by about an inch. A great Goliath like the vampire Sheriff might still have been considered large for his time, but no more so than if he'd been born in the modern era. Ugh. Why am I even thinking about him?

I carefully laid the glove in its temporary bin. Perhaps this set had belonged to a woman. I just couldn't picture a vampire like the primly posed Alice I'd encountered last night wielding these instruments of justice. Maybe that other one I'd seen through Dirk's eyes at the bar though. I needed to rein it in. Too great an interest in vampires is hazardous to anyone's health.

"I can't believe Mr. Herbahz is parting with all this," I said to Kenneth, once I'd finished gushing and exclaiming over the glove.

"He believes that such items should be enjoyed until they are not, and then passed along for the enjoyment of others," Kenneth said.

"That's a lovely outlook," I smiled. "I'll share privately that in this line of work, we see a heck of a lot of selfishness and covetousness."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he chuckled.

"Do you know if he's ever had the objects appraised before? Or when he acquired them?"

"No, to the acquisition. I can try to find out about the past appraisals, but I tend to doubt it. We will be traveling north for a few days, but I can visit next week, if I discover anything?"

"That would be lovely. I'd be done my work by then, and would love to compare the notes."

He said goodbye after that and refused my offer to walk him out, but I followed his mind up the stairs anyway. I buzzed up to Brenda on the intercom to let her know we'd gotten the glove and boy oh boy was it something. I plowed through the rest of my day without a single interruption, and finished with a fat stack of data to analyze tomorrow. Just before five I headed back to the storage vault and the door was just swinging shut when I heard someone call out, "Sookie? Hold the vault!"

It was too late for me to catch the door though. I cringed, just like you do when someone calls for you to hold an elevator and you're not quick enough to hit the button that makes the doors stay open. I set my things back on their proper shelf and made to leave just as I heard the mechanical locks release again. Wilson Bellows, the broker returning from Mississippi, came in, struggling with a large crate.

"It's lead-ware, not silverware, I'll swear it," he chuckled, hefting his load into the room with effort.

"Did you have good luck in Biloxi?" I asked. Wilson's one of our regional people, meaning he's based here in Shreveport, but he does a lot of traveling around the southeast to meet with those clients who can't conveniently come here.

"I think the truck's about half an hour behind me," he said. "_Huge_ estate." He was giddy and glad about the results from his trip.

"Brenda will be thrilled," I said.

"What've you been up to?"

"Ah you know, same old. Stone tools and pottery. I got a piece of nice old chainmail today," I grinned.

"Really? Medieval?" Wilson specializes in antiques from the last three centuries, but he's a huge history buff. Everyone's got a deep dark secret, right? I happen to be privy to many people's whether I want to be or not. Wilson's is that he goes to Renaissance Faires. In full costume. Since that's the worst he's got, I find I like him quite a bit.

I shook my head. "A bit earlier. I don't think it's armor, but for handling dangerous tools."

"Wow!" he said, sounding duly impressed. "Show me tomorrow? I'll be down here cataloging."

I agreed that I would. The idea of revealing some while concealing most is not only effective for hiding part-fairy telepaths. It would raise eyebrows among our uninitiated coworkers if either Brenda or I were too secretive about some of the objects that come in and out of here. Instead, we share what we can. An early example of a chainmail glove is perfectly okay to talk about. Paired with the silver knife and the word vampire, not so much.

I said goodnight to Wilson, locked up the lab, and headed for home.

My house phone rang just as I got in the door and I made a quick dash into the kitchen to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Sookie, it's your Gran."

"Hey Gran, I was just..."

"Now, I'm not going to scold you for not calling me last night..." Shoot. Oh, she was. She _so_ was. "But if you say you're going to call a person, that person stays up late and worries when you don't call."

"I'm so sorry Gran. Something came up here, and I completely forgot."

"Something with work?" she asked curiously.

"No, Gran. With the other thing."

For many reasons, my grandmother and I do not discuss either my ability or the supernatural world. She knows, of course. Well, maybe not about the two-natured, though I doubt she'll be shocked when they finally do come out. She knows about me; after all, she raised me. She knows about the fairies, because she cheated on her husband with one to conceive my father and my aunt. Sore subject? You betcha. She knows about demons, sort of, because she knew Mr. Cataliades from the time when Jason and I were born. And she knew all this for eighteen years while I was growing up, and never said a word. I love my grandmother more than I have ever loved another person in my life, but... no. No but's there. I'm not going to qualify _that_. She's human, and we just don't talk about it. Everything is complicated, and a lot of it is painful.

"Hmmm," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, Gran. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"You're alright?"

"I'm alright," I assured her, pushing all my sincerity into those two words.

"You still coming around for supper on Sunday?"

I laughed, "Do I _ever_ miss your country fried steak?" Not if I can help it!

"Well I know you're real busy up there," she started to say.

"Oh Gran," I smiled. "Of course I'm coming to visit on Sunday. Now, do you want to tell me the news, or do you want to save it up?" I asked, inviting her to clue me in to all the Bon Temps gossip.

We talked for about twenty minutes while I carried the cordless phone around, putting some dry dishes from the rack away, getting a load of laundry going, and going out to get the mail from the cute little box at the end of my walkway. It's white with ladybugs painted on it, on a white post. The post had been in place when I moved in, but I had to buy my own mailbox. I sat down on the wicker bench which was the only piece of furniture that my small porch could accommodate. Granny told me about the latest young vixen in town to turn up pregnant, and I agreed with her wholeheartedly when she said what a relief it was that the girl wasn't one of Jason's. It was a little chilly outside, but I didn't mind. Sometimes I just needed some fresh air.

The sun was setting fast and I watched a few lights flicker on in some houses down the street. I gave a little wave to my around-the-corner neighbor as he walked by with his little dog. I didn't know his name, but I saw him walking all the time. There was a man sitting in his car a few houses up. I reached out for his mind, and it was a struggle to keep up the appropriate stream of "Really? Oh no! Did she? My goodness!" that constituted my part of the conversation with my grandmother.

He wasn't a regular human. I was pretty sure he was a were of some kind, since his brain had that sort of snarly feel to it. Even from this distance I should be getting something if he were regular. I was extra unnerved when I realized what he was, since I don't have any supe neighbors. As I stared at him, I was almost certain that he was staring right back at me. I promised Gran once again that I'd be seeing her on Sunday and then hung up, setting the phone down beside me.

I had a bit of protection, here on the porch. My property is warded against those who would do me harm, so it's not like he could run up here and attack me. He could probably shoot me, but supes rarely carry guns. They just don't need them. That's not to say never though. After a few more minutes of my staring contest with the stranger, I remembered why I'd hurried home as my eyes started stinging and a huge yawn overtook me. I stood up off the bench and just like two nights ago, I was struck with a wave of intense dizziness. I staggered, but there was no vampire around to catch me. My vision started to fade out and I had a split second to panic about that before the darkness overtook me.

I woke up staring into the anxious face of a man I didn't know. A Were I didn't know, I registered a moment after. I scrambled to push myself back but my hands and arms weren't working as I wanted them to.

"Whoa there. Calm down."

"Who are you?" I rasped, my eyes darting around. I swung my head from side to side and that was a terrible idea. Oh, hands were working again. Elbows bending. I held my head steady.

"Dawson. Tray Dawson." Why do I know that name?

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be watching you until nine."

"Watching for whom?"

"Eric Northman. He's on his way."

"What? Why?" I demanded.

"You fainted, and I wasn't sure how quickly you'd wake up." I'd meant, "Why is Eric Northman having me watched?" I hadn't even registered the second part of his statement, and it took me a few seconds to work it out.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you sure look it," he chuckled.

I struggled to lift myself up from...my porch. I was still on my porch. It was definitely dark out now.

"Why are you watching me?"

"Can't say I asked," he shrugged. I managed to get myself sitting and leaned against my front door. He stayed in his same crouch at the edge of my steps, neither advancing nor retreating. "But I reckon it's to do with whatever went down last night," he surmised.

"Dawson," I said, the name finally clicking as the one I'd heard the vampire address on the phone. "You work for Eric."

"Sometimes. Technically I work for Caddo Security."

"You're the one who got Pam," I said, waiting for him to confirm it.

"Yes ma'am. You're the one who was passed out in the vamp's car." He didn't know who I was or what I was or what I was doing there last night, and he didn't particularly care.

I relaxed a little bit as I let myself acknowledge that this guy was, to some extent or another, a trusted associate of the Sheriff's. That wasn't a huge comfort in the scheme of things, but it was many degrees improvement on "unknown Were stalker." I started to gather my feet under me and took a firm grip on the door frame, ready to try to push myself up. He tried to suggest that I stay down for a minute, but I got insistent about going inside.

Tray Dawson pulled up easily to his feet and the hulking man leaned down and hooked an arm under my bent knees and another behind my back. Before I could protest that this was unnecessary, he'd picked me up as though I weighed no more than a bundle of feathers. That's saying a lot, because I'm not exactly a Skinny Minnie. He managed the door, somehow, and kicked it closed behind him as he carried me in to my house and over to my couch. Once he'd set me down he backed over to the entryway, and I pulled my old afghan down and scrunched it under my head for a pillow.

"You don't have to stay. I'm sure I was just hungry or something," I told him. Actually, I wasn't sure about that at all. I realized that I've been feeling lousy for the past couple of days beyond some missed sleep, though I knew that certainly hadn't helped.

"I'm to wait here with you. And you ate only four hours ago or so, I doubt it's just that." He folded his arms, looking stern. I could definitely see why he was a security guy. He got the forbidding stance exactly right.

"You've been watching me all day?"

"Since dawn."

I gaped at him. "Aren't you tired?"

He shrugged. I couldn't tell if that was a Were thing or just male machismo or what. There was a perfunctory knock at the door before Eric entered my home and I gave an exasperated sigh as I remembered far too late that I hadn't ever rescinded his invitation once he'd dropped me off last night. He gave me a hard look as though to indicate that he was not at all impressed by my frail humanity.

"What happened?" Eric asked Tray.

Tray Dawson gave a basic and thorough summary of the last hour or so, in which the only things I learned were that he'd followed me home from work, and that I'd been unconscious for about twenty minutes. The Sheriff dismissed the Were when he was through with his telling, and treated him to a steely glare as Tray told me, "Goodnight ma'am, feel better," as he left, closing my front door behind him.

"Is this," Eric was standing in front of me now, gesturing to my prone form in general, "typical of your condition?"

"No," I answered flatly.

"Are you being adversely affected by the magic from yesterday?"

"I have no idea what's wrong with me, but this," I returned the sweeping gesture at myself, "isn't normal. I've never been sick a day in my life." That was true. There was some more hard staring from him. I couldn't even believe that he had the nerve to be annoyed with me for feeling under the weather, so I glared right back at him.

"Why were you having me followed?"

"For your safety. Until the rest of the witches are discovered."

"Until your child is back to normal," I corrected.

"Yes."

I pulled myself to my feet then, holding the edge of the couch so I could be sure I was steady on my legs before I tried to walk. I was.

"You promised I could have until nine, right?" He gave me a nod, and I was glad he didn't argue the word "promised."

"Well I'm going to tend to my human needs until then as planned."

He didn't make to leave. Instead, he took out his phone and started typing into it. I waited him out, and eventually he glanced up at me again with a questioning look.

"You can come back later," I said, abandoning the subtle hints.

"I have just sent the guard away. I have business I can do from here. I will stay."

"You expect me to be able to sleep with a vampire in my living room?"

"You had no problem doing so last night for almost forty minutes," he reminded me.

I narrowed my eyes. He answered an incoming message. I scowled.

"Please respect my privacy," I said with resignation as I moved down the hall and into my bedroom.

I closed my door and turned the little lock in the handle, which was absolutely pointless since even a newborn vamp could push the door clear off its hinges if he had any mind to, and this guy was probably a thousand times as strong. I went in my bathroom and flipped the faucet on, full bore. Leaning over the sink I called my great grandfather. He wasn't there of course.

"Hello?" a man, or more likely the fairy, answered immediately.

I hoped the running water would obscure what I said from vampire hearing, but I still spoke softly, and guardedly. "Hello. I need to leave a message. Please tell him that Sookie called, and while it's not an emergency, it would be really good if he could get in touch with me soon. I may be out tonight, but I'll be home by dawn at the latest."

"I'll give him the message," the dulcet voice murmured back at me.

"I would appreciate that, good night," I said, and hung up.

As soon as I hung up I felt foolish, wondering if I'd overreacted. A few dizzy spells and some weariness and a bruised finger didn't add up to a lot for a normal human. It was probably just an infection, but I'd never had one of those before, and I didn't know how to treat it. I guessed the worst case scenario, at least from the perspective of calling him away from Faery needlessly, was that he'd say nothing was unusual, and I'd feel sheepish, but still have had a visit from Niall. I love his visits. The actual worst case scenario was probably a whole lot more _worse_, involving me dying painfully as a result of some unrealized exposure to something dastardly. It didn't do any good to let myself dwell on that thought.

I switched off the water and walked back to the bed, pushing off my shoes but otherwise just falling into it. I strained to hear Eric moving around, but there was just the looming void of his mind standing still out in the entryway. At least it wasn't full of distracting thoughts. It was actually almost peaceful. Oh Lord. Save me from false senses of security. I had just enough clear thought to be annoyed that he'd been right; I fell asleep quite easily.

I woke up suddenly at five minutes to nine without the aid of an alarm. I pushed my mind throughout my house and found the vampire in my kitchen. Sorry buddy, I don't keep any bottles of Life Force in my fridge. Some of the names they come up with for the synthetic blood were hilarious. I'd read an article last week saying that PepsiCo would be launching its own blood drink, Hema: Code Red, this summer. I'm sure it would be _extreme_. Spare me.

I washed up and changed my clothes and realized that I was feeling considerably better for the rest. I went out to the kitchen to get myself something to eat. The vampire acknowledged me as I entered but otherwise didn't say a word while I ate. Once I'd finished and cleared my plate to the sink I stood at the counter and asked what he needed me for tonight.

"We will need the witch to restore Pam, firstly. He has refused to be compelled so far."

"Meaning attempts to glamour him into doing so have failed," I answered, and Eric nodded.

"I am inclined to believe that he is unable to do so by himself," Eric observed, and it was my turn to nod. "I am also very interested to know what his goal was and by what means he put her in this state, but this can come later, if necessary."

"Sure," I agreed dully. "And then after this, we're done, right?"

"Pardon?"

"After I help you tonight, I'm not going to have to help you again, right?"

"I don't think I can promise that. You've proven to be very useful."

I was outraged, and I'm sure it showed on my face for a moment before I smoothed my countenance.

"I've done everything you've asked," I said.

"And I've done everything I promised. Your secret remains safe. _You_ remain safe. Care has been taken that you are not overtaxed in your efforts. You remain in my protection."

"At your whim."

"I am not a whimsical vampire, Sookie."

"But a vampire," I said softly, though no doubt he heard me perfectly.

He was a big one for the penetrative stares and I got another one before he stood and crossed to me. "Come. We will leave now," he directed, and he took my hand and pulled me toward the door. His grip on me was firm but not forceful, as if to emphasize that while I _was_ being forced, I was not being mistreated. I was relieved to see that his car was in my driveway. He guided me in to the passenger seat and we set off. I didn't bother asking where we were headed, but I was pretty sure it was to Pam's house, somewhere he could be seen freely coming and going. When we arrived he handled me out of the car as well, still alert to my reluctance to be here. I shrugged him off of me, capitulating as I followed him inside.

I felt the live and vibrant brain of Jack Mason buzzing away upstairs, but once again there were no others around. The vampire told me to wait in the great room as he went to retrieve the witchy captive and I had a moment or two to glance around at Pam's elegant furnishings. I figured they were hers, anyway. I knew two other vampires were said to live here, but everything in home seemed to have a woman's touch. There was tasteful artwork on the walls, in particular a painting of the three Graces, handmaidens of the goddess Aphrodite.

Eric returned, carrying the terrorized witch who was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, but otherwise ostensibly uninjured. I turned around as he was set back on the couch.

"I would suggest not removing the tape that binds his mouth, as he's likely to try casting spells," Eric commented. "Maybe more than he already has, if he is the cause of your illness."

"You think the shed was booby-trapped?" I asked, making the connection.

"I did not see the shed, so I cannot say for sure." He sounded careful. "And evidently you are more adept than I at detecting such magics, as I did not sense it on the property when we exited the car, as you did."

"Possibly you just didn't recognize it," I excused, though believing full well that he hadn't sensed it. If he had, and he'd still charged in like that... well, people with that kind of recklessness don't live a thousand years.

"Possibly," he agreed. "Begin with what is done to Pam and what is required to undo it," he said, gesturing to the mute and still figure that internally was anything but.

Fear was rolling off Jack Mason in waves, and that was to be expected. Right beneath it there were equal parts confusion, frustration, and... disappointment? The same as with the drainers, there was no guilt at all. In sharp contrast to them however, there was also no anger, no rage. That was pretty remarkable, considering his current situation.

"He doesn't hate you," I told Eric, with genuine surprise.

Eric looked nonplussed.

I turned back to Jack and sat down next to him on the couch, my hand clutching his shoulder. I had the familiar jolt of clarity when the connection was made, like a wavering screen tuned abruptly into sharp focus.

"Jack, what do you think of vampires?" I asked.

It was just like his sister Diane. He pitied vampires their terrible affliction. Through his eyes, they were woeful, sickly creatures. He weighed their strength and their longevity, and thought it was no fair trade off for daytime and life. I pulled his blindfold off and let him blink and adjust himself to the low light of the room. Then, he focused on Eric, and to Jack the ancient vampire with his golden mane looked sallow and pale, crowned in ashen straw. I found myself glancing back at the towering creature just to be certain that my own eyes hadn't tricked me. Eric certainly did not strike a piteous figure. He was handsome and powerful. He radiated might and potency, but Jack saw only a man who had been murdered in his prime, and a man who had been compelled to life a half life-full of sorrow and death. A man who he could help, if he would only let him.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered.

"What?" demanded Eric. I hadn't bothered to control my face and felt how wide my eyes were as I stared in wonder at the witch.

"He was trying to... unmake her," I said, with awe.

"Why go to this trouble?" he asked dubiously. "Why not just use a stake, or the sun?"

"No, Eric," I interrupted. "He thought he, they, his coven...they were trying to turn her human again."

I pulled away from Jack for a moment, who was still gazing with Eric with pleading eyes, as if trying to communicate something to the vampire. The truth of my words, perhaps. His good, if horrendously warped and misguided intentions maybe. Eric took three gigantic strides forward and backhanded Jack so hard across the face that if I hadn't been able to reach for his mind, I would have been certain I'd heard his neck snap, rather than his jaw.

I sprang from the couch, not caring about hiding my own fear and I scrambled across the room, well out of the way. There was absolute menace radiating from the vampire whose fangs had run out and he stood seething above the bound man, who I felt certain was about to die.

"Pam," I breathed, and gulped as his eyes snapped to me. "Pam," I said more surely. "You need him for Pam."

My phone started to ring, and I ignored it while we stayed locked on each other. I was too afraid to look away.

Finally he nodded and he grabbed Jack Mason by his broken jaw and wrenched his head upward. I heard the man's moaning cries of pain, stifled by the tape across his face. Abruptly he went silent as Eric dragged him under his hypnosis and I backed out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. I fumbled with one of the bottles of blood in Pam's refrigerator, scanning it quickly for the heating instructions and then I put it into the microwave. He appeared at the entry before the timer was up and he held me in his predator's gaze. When the timer sounded I followed the instruction to "shake well before serving," and leaned forward to put it near him on the counter, nudging it toward him with the tips of my fingers before retreating again. I had no weapons. He was in lurid anger, and I'd just reminded him that he couldn't kill the _other_ human in the house.

"Please drink that," I said. It was an effort to keep my voice even, but I managed it. For long moments he looked at me and then the bottle, before he finally took it, and drank it down in one.

When he lowered it back to the counter, the terrifying glint had faded from his eyes, but I felt little relieved. I was trembling, and he stepped closer.

"Stay back now," I don't know where I'd found the steel for my voice, but it was in there. Not that he listened. I had the impulse to move away, to put the kitchen island between us, but I resisted that urge, clenching my fists to do it. That would be cat and mouse, and I was so far from being the cat in this scenario I should have been nibbling a tiny wedge of cheese.

I held up a hand to halt him and it met the contours of his chest as he pressed in closer to me. He dipped his head beside mine and I heard him inhale.

"You smell _so_ good, Sookie." His voice was low and dark in my ear.

"Sheriff Northman," I said sternly. The title resonated with him. He snapped his head up, eyes locked on mine again. "You're not _allowed_ to hurt me," I reminded him, praying to God that this was actually true.

"It wouldn't have to hurt."

"No."

He finally straightened up after a long minute. Maybe the longest minute of my life.

"Go and answer your phone, Sookie," he told me, stepping back to let me pass him. I breathed out and nodded, inching past him, moving much quicker when I got back to the hall.

It had stopped ringing by the time I reached it. I checked and saw that I had five missed calls from Brenda Hesterman. Before I could dial her back, it was ringing again.

"Brenda? What's wrong?" I asked.

"You need to come down to Splendide, Sookie."

"Why? What happened?"

"There's been a break-in."

* * *

A/N: The three Graces, also called the Charites, were Aglaea (splendor), Euphrosyne (mirth), and **Thalia (good cheer)**. Pam's got quite the ironic sense of humor, and so does Charlaine Harris.


	6. As a Terrapin is of Vampires

A/N: The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy is beta'ing this story. She's just amazing.

I like these new pics we can add to stories now!

This chapter title is truncated for length in the heading. I love this expression. I read it in Foghorn Leghorn's voice.

* * *

Chapter 6 - As Shy of Brains as a Terrapin is of Vampires

"What do you mean there's been a break-in? Upstairs?" I demanded. I could hear a swarm of chattering in the background from where ever she was calling.

"Downstairs."

"The vault?" I asked incredulously.

"It seems so, Sookie. You need to come down here. All employees need to speak to the police."

"What was taken?"

"We're not sure yet, I've given them the inventory lists, but they don't even know what they're looking at or for. I'm going to need you for that once they permit us to go inside."

"Alright Brenda, I'll be there as soon as I can."

I hung up with her and turned around to Eric standing right behind me. I flinched away with a shriek and my phone went clattering to the ground.

"Jesus Christ!" I cried out. "Do you have to sneak up on people? Have you got a hold on yourself now? I have to go."

"You must finish with the witch," he told me. He bent down and picked up my phone and handed it to me.

"No."

Clearly this is not a word he hears very often.

"Look, just take me home. Or take me to Splendide. I'll get a ride back with someone else. I'll come back after I talk to the police." When he said nothing I said, "Fine, I'll just call for a taxi."

I flipped open my phone and began scrolling. How convenient that the number was still listed in my recently made calls. I was going to have to send this vamp a bill for all this car service. He plucked the phone out of my hands again and I wheeled on him with an exasperated huff.

"Give me my phone back."

"This is the more important matter," he said, gesturing to the living room, where Jack Mason still sat in his stupor.

"To _you_. To me, _this_," and here I stomped over to the unresponsive man and waved my hands in a sweeping gesture in front of him to emphasize that fact, "will keep for a couple of hours while I go tend to _my own _emergency_. _Although you need to do something about the man's jaw." I finished quickly.

"The man's jaw?" Eric stared at me in disbelief.

"Yes, you _giant_ a-hole. How exactly is he going to un-spell Pam now if he can't speak? You didn't even let me explain before you _hit him_ right before you tried to _eat me. _Now again, give me my phone!"

Playing with fire? Yes, I surely was. But being nice and compliant had equally almost gotten me _killed_ a few minutes ago, so what, exactly, did I have to lose here?

He didn't hand me my phone, but after a moment he did move over to the couch and adjust Jack's jaw. I winced as I imagined his bones being shifted back into place. The glamour had probably been done to stop his thrashing and muffled screaming but at this point it was the greatest mercy. After roughly pressing his fingers over Jack's face to ensure the bones were in their right positions, the vampire took the length of cloth that had previously been used to blindfold Jack and tied it under his chin and around and around his head, in the old-fashioned style of treating such an injury, before the advents of jaw wiring or proper medical braces.

He stalked over to me with an expression that read, "Happy now?" and he grabbed for my wrist and started to pull me toward the door.

"Two hours," he said.

I pulled my hand free of his grip, which surprised both of us. He reached for it again but I stepped back. I turned and went to the kitchen and heated up another bottle of blood. If I was getting into another enclosed space with him, he was going to be well fed first. As it turned in the microwave he came in to the kitchen to inform me that we were on my two hours. He took his time about drinking it once I'd handed it over. I watched in silence.

As we drove to Splendide I tried to explain to him about Jack and Diane's warped view of vampires, how they saw them as creatures in sorrowful agony. He scoffed openly but I told him it was his own fault, well, the vampires' own fault.

"You told the world a lie. You have no right to be mad if some people believed it," I shrugged.

"This thing he would do to her, make her human again. It can really be done? I have never heard of this."

"He seemed to think there was a chance."

He stewed again in stony silence after that. When we arrived at Splendide he pulled in to park, rather than just dropping me off. I sighed. There were officers waiting at the entrance to the parking lot, one on either side. I lowered my window to speak to the one nearest to me.

"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. My boss Brenda Hesterman called me down. I work here."

Eric had also lowered his window, in response to the opposite officer's tapping on it.

"And you are?" the other officer spoke to Eric.

"Eric Northman."

"And are you also an employee here?"

"I am escorting Miss Stackhouse this evening," he said.

The officers exchanged looks and one nodded to the other and they waved us past. They hadn't registered the fact that Eric is a vampire, but as soon as we drove past and they caught the BLDSKR vanity plate on the back of the Corvette, they'd know. Sure enough when we passed the officers again, heading back toward the front of the building on foot, they were both viewing me in an entirely different and speculative air. I shuddered.

"You shouldn't be here," I frowned. Not that he'd exactly given me the option of leaving him behind. "Now those cops think I'm some kind of suspicious fangbanger."

"Why should they think that?" he asked curiously. I treated him to a withering look.

"Spend a lot of your evenings just palling around with your human friends, do you?" I asked.

"No, but they are not to know that."

"Eric, _everyone_ knows that. The only reason humans hang around with vampires is for kinky sex," I said, rolling my eyes.

Brenda was standing in front of the building talking on her cell phone. There were a slew of people here, coming or going or just standing around. I saw Donald and Wilson and one of the other brokers each chatting with police detectives. A couple of our security guys were standing together. I saw Dan standing off to the side talking to another officer. It'd be a great night to pull off a horrible crime elsewhere. The entire Shreveport P.D. seemed to be here at Splendide.

I made my way over to Brenda. She scowled at me as she recognized the presence of Eric. She had ended her call by the time I reached her.

"Sookie, thank you for coming."

"I only have a couple of hours," I told her, flicking my eyes quickly to the vampire so she'd take my meaning.

"I see," she said stiffly.

An officer strode over to us then and introduced himself to me as Detective Coughlin. He greeted Eric with some recognition, and Eric stuck to his 'escorting Miss Stackhouse' line when asked what he was doing here. The Detective seemed indifferent to it, for which I was grateful.

"You're employed here as a specialist in antiquities, Miss Stackhouse?" Detective Coughlin referred to his little notepad and then looked up at me for confirmation.

"Yes sir."

"And that's your lab downstairs, across from the vault?"

"Yes sir. Was there any indication that they'd gotten into the lab?"

"Our team is still investigating the building," he non-answered. "You left work at five this evening?"

"A few minutes after, I think. I got held up talking to one of our other brokers, Wilson Bellows. He'd just got back from a trip to Mississippi."

"Yes," the Detective agreed. He's obviously already spoken to Mr. Bellows. "And after that, what did you do this evening?"

"After that I went home, I spoke to my grandmother on the telephone, I...took a nap, and then I ate some dinner, and then around nine o'clock I went out. Then Brenda called, and we came right over," I recounted, omitting wildly.

"Ms. Hesterman said she had to call you several times before getting a hold of you."

"My phone was in the other room, I'm sorry about that," I said, looking to Brenda apologetically.

"And where were you?" the Detective asked.

"At Eric's friend Pam's house."

"So you were alone at home between say, five-thirty and nine?"

"Well no, Eric came by at dusk and just hung out in my kitchen while I slept," I explained.

Brenda was staring at me wide eyed.

"Mr. Northman, you've been with Miss Stackhouse all evening?" the detective asked the vampire.

"Yes," Eric answered promptly, offering the man not a syllable more than was required to satisfy his question. There was a moment of eying up between Detective and (unbeknown) Sheriff.

"Er, am I suspect?" I interrupted their male posturing and let my disbelief tinge my voice.

"We're asking everyone with access to the property to recount their whereabouts this evening," he informed me.

"Do we know how they got in?" I asked.

"I don't think we can draw any firm conclusions at this point in time," Coughlin said evasively. He turned his attention back to his notebook then and we stood there waiting for several minutes as he completely ignored us.

In part, this was a skill of his trade; making people wait around tended to make them nervous if they were guilty. In another part, he was simply putting all the ducks he'd gathered in a row, going through the notes he'd taken and trying to get a clear picture of everyone's alibis and whereabouts. Brenda and I glanced back and forth between each other and everything going on around us. She had a bunch of things she wanted to ask me, and at the top of the list was why the vampire was here with me. More immediately, she was worried about what was taken, and underneath that, she was wondering how long this was all going to take, not only tonight, but tomorrow. Eric was standing aloof, his eyes impassively scanning the scene before him. He practically had a bird's eye view, after all.

"Detective Coughlin? How long will you need us to stay tonight?" I asked.

"You got somewhere to be, Miss Stackhouse?" He was a suspicious man by nature, and I tried not to take offense.

"Only if I'm not needed," I smiled faintly. "But if I can be of use here, I'd be glad to get started." I did my very best to sound eager and willing to help. I certainly didn't want to stand around all night as so many people out here seemed content to be doing.

"I'll see if they're ready for you inside," he said gruffly, before shuffling off.

I turned to Brenda, demanding all the details. She pulled me a few feet away from Eric and explained in a hushed voice that about forty-five minutes after everyone was out of the building, just after seven, there was a failed attempt at entry to the vault, at which point the vault security company alerted her. Whenever there is an issue with the vault or the alarms overnight, the standard procedure is that she needs to come down here and meet a police officer to ensure nothing is amiss. It had only happened once since I'd been working here, where a potted plant had toppled over mysteriously, triggering the motion sensors. That had been months ago, though, just a fluke thing.

Just after the first call, she'd gotten a second call that there had been a power surge in the building, but at that point she was already on her way. When she arrived here, she found the police officer attending to the night guard, Chip Young, who was found unconscious on the sidewalk. He'd been taken to the hospital. When backup arrived, they searched the building and found the vault had been broken into. She hadn't seen it herself, she'd only been allowed into her office to retrieve a summary of the contents of the vault for the detectives. She'd been questioned, and she'd spent the rest of the evening standing around out here on the phone.

When she finished telling it all, we'd gone back to standing around staring and lip-biting. "Shit," she said, as she looked up.

I whipped around to see what she was looking at, and a staid looking man in his early sixties was striding towards us. He was powerfully built, let alone for a man of his age, and he radiated calm authority. It wasn't a uniformed officer. Had he been in his uniform he would have outranked everyone here. Well, except maybe Eric.

"Brenda," he greeted, coming to her side and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Colonel Flood, thank you for coming," she responded automatically, though I knew she'd had no idea he was going to show up. Despite her initial surprise to see him, she found a tremendous comfort in the Were's presence beside her.

"Parnell called and told me what happened here tonight," he said. Though he spoke to Brenda, his eyes were now trained on Eric. It was no surprise he'd been informed; there are a few Weres on the police force. Just like private security or the military, it's a line of work to which the two-natured are well suited. Naturally any Were on duty here tonight would inform their Packmaster of what had happened.

Brenda is the daughter and the sister of pack members, but technically she is of no significance to the Shreveport Were pack herself. Only firstborn children tend to be acknowledged by the Pack (as only _they_ are potential members), but I suppose her position here merits a little more recognition than the norm. This was certainly a matter of supernatural interest. I also couldn't help but assume that the Sheriff's presence among the throng had hastened the Packmaster's arrival tonight. I watched as either nodded to the other, the modicum of courtesy.

Colonel Flood hadn't acknowledged me with any more than a passing glance and perhaps another slight nod. I could sense that he wanted to speak privately to Brenda, so I excused myself and moved away from them. The retired Air Force Colonel too, knew me only as the god-daughter of Mr. Cataliades. When we were introduced, he'd accepted without another thought that I was kind of similar to Brenda; just a fond relation from a family with supernatural ties, but nothing special myself. It had been the same sort of formal meet and greet as I'd had with the vampire Sheriff, when I'd first moved up to Shreveport.

I headed towards the building; not the entrance, but just the front wall. I needed to clear my head. There were so many voices, so many minds buzzing with activity. It was different from the crowd at the nightclub. While that had been large, the thoughts were all pretty similar, and slightly dulled by alcohol or whatever other substances had been at work numbing the clientèle. This was a mess of sharp, speculative minds going in a hundred different directions. I pushed my shields up and focused my attention on the silent vampire mind moving closer to me.

"Are you feeling ill again?"

"No," I said, through closed eyes. "Just taking a breather. A moment to collect myself," I clarified.

"I know what a 'breather' is. What is the Shreveport Packmaster doing here?"

"He's wondering the same about you," I told Eric. "Stay put for a minute, that big empty head of yours is lovely to focus on."

I could only imagine the expression on his face, but I couldn't help a small grin at my own joke. I felt him move beside me. I could understand why that was more desirable to him, not having his back to a bunch of strangers. It was probably instinctual.

"You are no longer frightened," he observed.

"Not at the moment, no. I figure you're not fool enough to try to harm me in front of the whole Shreveport P.D."

He didn't acknowledge that. After a moment, he curled his hand around mine. My eyes shot open and I quickly turned my head towards him, my eyebrows up.

"You have said touch amplifies the connection to your mind. Does it enhance the quiet of my _void_ as well?" Seemed he preferred my earlier explanation to the insinuation of empty-headedness.

I considered a moment before I answered, "Yes."

He nodded at that, and made a little shooing motion at me, indicating I should get back to taking my little rest.

"Thanks," I said, relaxing back against the wall again. He gave a slight twitch of his fingers around mine. I didn't know if this was his idea of an apology, or if he was just keeping his tool properly oiled, so to speak, the same way he'd remembered to stop for my coffee break. Either way, I appreciated it for the few minutes it lasted.

He gave my fingers a squeeze and then released my hand and I opened my eyes again to see the owner of the mind I'd felt approaching and focused on me.

"Sookie Stackhouse?" The police officer who appeared before me was young and keen. He had bright blue eyes and short cropped black hair. I bet he got it trimmed every week. Even at this hour of the night he didn't have a hint of five o'clock shadow, which only enhanced his conscientiously neat appearance. This was the most interesting case he'd seen since he joined the force, and he was eager and excited to be involved in any small way. The embroidered patch above his left breast informed me that his name was Marks.

"Yes officer," I nodded, stepping off the wall.

"They're ready for you inside," he told me, with no further explanation. He didn't have any to offer, he'd just been sent to retrieve me by Detective Coughlin.

I moved to follow the policeman, and so did Eric.

"Just Miss Stackhouse, sir," Officer Marks said, holding up a hand to halt the vampire. It was an inoffensive gesture. Marks had either registered or been informed that Eric was vampire, but bore him no particular hostility. This was a crime scene, and Eric was just a person who wasn't cleared to enter it.

"I'll be out as soon as I can," I told him, before allowing the officer to lead me inside.

It was odd to be escorted through a place that I inhabited practically every day as if I were the guest in this establishment, but I let myself follow downstairs without complaint. The short hallway that stretched between my lab and the vault seemed like tight quarters with the four officers already crowding it before our arrival. Two were uniformed like Officer Marks. One was Detective Coughlin, and that last, I was informed, was Detective Givens, who worked in forensics. With relief, I saw that my lab was still dark and closed. The door to the vault however, was flung open, and the bright fluorescent light from inside flooded the hallway already spotlit by the emergency lights. There was a backup generator for the rest of the building, but the vault, its light, and its climate control, were separated from the main power source. They were all evidently still functioning.

I frowned. "That door can't stay open like that; the humidity and temperature in there are meant to stay constant." I was addressing no one in particular, but I couldn't help but voice my concerns. I saw that the forensics guy at least was wearing gloves. Latex, but it was better than nothing.

"I understand Ms. Hesterman has been in touch with the vault company. As soon as we've finished down here, she can bring them in and put your system back on line," said a woman as she emerged from the vault's interior.

She scanned the hall briefly as she joined us. "Marks, Vasquez, it's getting a little crowded down here." My escort and another of the uniforms immediately retreated up the stairs.

"Ms. Stackhouse?" she addressed me again, and I nodded. "I'm Detective Cara Ambroselli. Ms. Hesterman tells us you'll be able to help us confirm what should be in here." She'd given me the once over and was drawing no apparent conclusions from my appearance, unlike Givens, who was thinking that I was both a little too young and a little too pretty to be an authority on anything.

"Er, yes," I agreed. "Well, not from memory. I can confirm against our records."

"Yes," she agreed, and flipped open a folder she'd had tucked under her arm. "I've got that list here," she said, holding it out to me. I took it, but hesitated to follow her inside.

"May I step into my lab for a moment? I need to wash and glove my hands," I explained.

Ambroselli nodded and then followed me across the hall. I tried to ignore the way she watched me like a hawk as I flipped on one of the lights, scrubbed and dried my hands and grabbed a set of my gloves. I grabbed a marker from my workbench as we left, holding it out so she could see what I'd picked up. I gestured to her that I was done and we exited once again and I locked the door behind me.

"Why cloth gloves?" she asked, with passing interest.

"They absorb oils," I answered. Clients ask all the time. "Less chance of transference. They also don't make your hands sweat like rubber or latex."

It took me about forty-five minutes to go through the room while the detective stood by. I went shelf to shelf and just scanned down the list and marked everything as I found it. The list wasn't collated to reflect the position of items down here, so I could easily see why they were having me do it. It would have taken them four or five times as long to identify everything themselves, if it were even possible. There was some disarray, some items had been knocked to the ground. With the Detective's permission, I straightened up, as I could. She informed me that the area had already been photographed.

I frowned when I started to see the pattern of what was missing. Gold and silver, precious items. I knew where the Byzantine jewelry should have been, and it wasn't there. That made me wince. My stomach was in knots as I moved closer to the Herbahz lot.

"Oh thank God," I said, when I shifted the foam coverings and saw that the set appeared to be intact.

"Special, this stuff?" Ambroselli's voice came from over my shoulder. She was quiet, but I knew she was there, so it didn't startle me.

"Yes," I sighed, breathing out my relief.

"What are they?" she obviously hadn't noted the stake.

"Fine-work tools from the pre-Christian era," I said automatically. "Precious metals. Very rare examples." It was a true statement that was simultaneously completely misleading.

"They must have been missed. Good that they were covered up."

"Very," I agreed.

I finished going down my list, and the detective supplied me with a highlighter to note the missing items. It wasn't a whole lot in quantity. Value was a different kettle of fish.

"Most of the gold and silver then," Ambroselli observed, once I'd returned the papers to her and she'd had a chance to scan it. Most of the silver Wilson had brought in hours before had been taken, too.

"Right," I said dully. It bothered me, though, and I wasn't the only one.

"What's special on this list?" she asked me.

"Some of the jewelry, maybe. The pre-Columbian pendant, maybe the Turkish gold. It's hard to say, ma'am. Those are the rarer items, the older ones, definitely valuable, but," I started to say.

"But perhaps not worth all this trouble," she summarized.

She summoned Brenda then, who appeared and went over the list. I heard as she registered what had and hadn't been taken, and felt an echo of my same relief. She looked smooth and professional, but I could tell that inside she was deeply shaken by the events of the evening.

"Sookie, we'll be closed tomorrow. I've already let everyone else know." She had a dozen thoughts streaming through her brain and by the sound of her voice she'd just picked one tether at random and let it drag her along. "I need you to take your laptop home and work on that analysis from today." She looked up and directed her next comment to the Detective. "That's okay right? She can remove her laptop from the property?"

Once again Detective Ambroselli followed me into my lab while I retrieved my laptop. After that, I was escorted from the building by Detective Coughlin.

"You can head home now, Ms. Stackhouse. Please keep your cell phone on in case we need to get in touch with you again tonight or tomorrow."

"Sure, Detective, thank you."

He left my side after that, and I saw that the crowd out front had dwindled slightly. Eric wasn't where I'd left him, but he appeared beside me as I headed back around to the parking lot. We walked in silence to his car, and he was back to being the gentlemanly vamp as he got the door for me and held my computer while I got inside, handing it back before he closed me in.

"What was taken?" he asked.

"Nothing particularly unique," I shrugged. "Human things."

"A human crime, then," he surmised.

"I've no idea. I suppose it could just as easily be a supe crime meant to look like a human crime. I mean if it was humans, why not just rob a bank or something?"

I wasn't really looking for an answer and he didn't have one.

We arrived back at Pam's and I was surprised to realize that I'd only barely exceeded my two hour time limit. I frowned as I watched him moving swiftly towards the front door again, and hung back in the driveway. He was standing before me again the instant he realized I wasn't just behind him. I flinched as he appeared, and withdrew a couple of steps.

"You must..." he began.

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted. "Believe me Sheriff, you've been clear about what_ I must_. You'll forgive me if I'm reluctant to hurry along behind you while you're leading my hand back to the stove."

As we stood there I tried to pull together some kind of game plan. The first order of business would be figuring out exactly what they'd done to Pam and how to undo it, the second would be why, and the third would be convincing the Sheriff that Jack Mason didn't deserve the death penalty. That last bit would have to be done first, because once he had his answers, Jack's life was forfeit unless the vampire was convinced otherwise.

"Are you going to kill him once Pam is restored?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm having a real hard time walking back in there and facing that man when I already know how it will end for him. If he needs others to undo the spell, like I think he does, then that's their lives too. It's different from those blood drainers. This guy... he took care of her. He genuinely thought he would be helping her..."

"Why would he think that?" was his only quiet response.

"I don't know. I could find out, but," I frowned up at the vampire. "It's the same. Once you have all your answers, he's dead meat, so why should I even try?"

I turned to stare into the neighbor's yard as the hissing of their sprinkler system started up. Arcs of fine mist fanned out across the deep green turf. It was a suitable distraction.

"You wish to decide his fate?"

"No!" I practically shouted. Even he cocked his head as if listening hard for any indication that someone else could have heard me.

"Maybe you're comfortable with that thumbs up thumbs down, live or die, sort of power, but I'm not, and I don't ever want to be. I just..." I looked away from him again, and bit down on my lip while I thought of what I could say to express what I was feeling. If it was even worth trying to explain at all.

"Knowing that you're more than ready to throw his life away the second he's no longer of use to you, or that you're so willing to put his life into someone else's hands... what am I to make of that, when it comes to my life?"

"You believe that after you help me, I will rescind the protection I have granted you," he concluded.

"Won't you? I'm sure my end won't be as immediate as Mr. Mason's in there. I'm sure there'll be another emergency or two that I'll be compelled to help you with first, but in the end... You've been paid for your silence, Sheriff, but we both know that only applies so long as you're never asked to speak."

He wouldn't expose me, but he wouldn't help hide me.

He raised his hand and I turned my head away, ready to deflect a blow. I knew I'd been insulting. The truth hurts, and I'd expected a literal response to my figurative slap. Instead, his large hand came to my shoulder and he steered me toward the house. I let myself be led this time, feeling deflated. Once inside, he pushed me somewhat gently down on to the couch next to Jack Mason.

I clasped Jack's hand in mine and gestured for the vampire to release him. When he did, the moans started again immediately. Jack's face was swollen and bruised. His pain radiated through me and I paled with even the shadow of it. Clasping his hands, I moved to kneel in front of him, placing myself in his field of vision. I spoke softly to him, luring him in to the same sort of trance I'd used to calm Daphne. It's not glamour. I can only compel a temporary calm, while I'm actively trying. When my great grandfather embraces me, I am overcome with a sense of love and wellbeing that would be so easy to lose myself in. This is only the faintest echo of that, this fleeting comfort I can give when I concentrate with all my might.

I spoke to him softly, my voice and my words gentle, coaxing him along the threads of his plans.

"It's a stasis spell, on Pam specifically. It's usually for things, places; it worked because she's dead. There's a man, Parton, and a woman, no, a girl, Chelsea. They can lift it, while she's restrained. It's what they had to do to keep her fed."

I provided what I could to the Sheriff in a dull, flat voice. The appearances and locations of the coven members Jack would need to correct Pam. I pressed forward, answering the vampire's demands to know more.

"They found a spell to sever blood bonds between humans and vampires. They adapted it. They meant to use that first, to sever her from you. They didn't know you could still feel her at all, they..." I paused, listening, wanting to be sure I'd gotten it right. "Those spells they had in place around the shed where they were keeping her, were intended to suppress your bond entirely. You were meant to think she was already finally dead. They never expected you to come looking."

I took a moment to refocus on Jack, my thumbs moving across his palms in rhythmic circles. His pain was present, but it wasn't at the fore.

"Why Pam?" I whispered to the man.

His thoughts were sad, as they turned to his sister. In his mind she was tanned and laughing, healthy and joyful. A shiver of fear ran through me, and I couldn't even tell if it was his or mine. This wasn't Diane, but another woman that he pictured.

"Was she turned vampire?" I asked him, drawing him from the hazy memories.

My question startled him, but then he answered.

_Not yet._ _Not ever._

He thought of someone else then, gaunt and ashen, suffering for love. It was love, as he saw it, and he approved of love. He'd been trying to help them.

"Oh Jack," I said sadly. I reached up and stroked his hair on the good side of his face. He leaned into my hand very slightly, and it made my heart hurt. He really did have the best intentions.

I turned to the vampire then, and motioned to Jack, indicating he should put the glamour back on. It would prevent him from feeling the pain of his jaw.

Once he was immersed in the familiar static, I turned and stood.

"You have everything you need now. I would like to go home please."

He'd said very little since I'd cut him to the quick out on the driveway. He'd get over it. He was a vampire, and he wouldn't care what a human thought of him. He didn't care about humans at all.

"I will glamour the man to forget he took Pam, to forget all of this," he said, breaking the silence as we drove back to my house.

"That's an awfully big hole."

"The injury will substantiate some memory loss." He sounded satisfied.

"He has a dirt bike," I offered impassively. Might as well make it believable. "It's in his garage. He used to go riding all the time with his sisters."

"Thank you, that is useful to know."

"How's Daphne holding up?" I asked him. He didn't answer. He didn't know. "She'll be real happy to get Pam back too, I'm sure."

"I'm sure."

"Hey, what's her last name?" I asked, as though the thought had just occurred to me.

"I don't know," the vampire answered.

I had my laptop ready when we pulled up to my house. I got out of the car and strode toward the door. He caught up by the time I'd reached the door, and he followed me inside. I didn't bother to ask why. I produced my phone and called Mr. Cataliades.

"Miss Stackhouse," his warm voice came. "Am I to presume you are home and safe for the evening?"

"Yes sir," I answered. "Home and safe, and my present business with the Sheriff is now concluded." I lifted an eyebrow at the towering vampire, as if challenging him to refute this statement. He merely nodded in agreement.

"I understand there was some trouble at your place of work this evening," the demon said.

"Yes sir," I confirmed. News just travels like wildfire in the supe world. "But we can talk about that tomorrow. I'm very tired now."

"Of course, Miss Stackhouse. Good night."

I hung up my phone and waited for the vampire to leave. When he didn't, I moved past him and held open the door he'd shut behind him.

"It would be nice to hear when Pam is fully recovered. You can have your day guy call me. Vague message is fine, I'd just... like to know."

He nodded. "Of course. Thank you for your assistance."

"No need to thank me, Sheriff." It's not like you're actually grateful.

"It's Mason, by the way," I told him.

He looked at me questioningly.

"Daphne's last name. It's Mason. Her family couldn't bear to watch her wasting away to be with Pam, you see. She loves your child. They were trying to find a way for them to be together. She didn't know, if that's your next question."

"I see."

"I'm sure you don't. Goodbye, Sheriff Northman," I said, gesturing him out the door. He walked outside and turned around on my porch. Maybe he'd been about to say goodnight in kind, but I didn't wait for that. I closed the door and shot the deadbolt.

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A/N: I did not have a chance to reply individually to reviews after the last update - sorry about that. It's getting hard to reply to some of you without spoiling, as well. I did wish to say thank you, both to those of you who I consistently hear from and to those who just take time now and then to drop a line when something particularly sparks. Also for those who have made this story a favorite or subscribed to updates already, it's so flattering. Thanks all around.


	7. Tarred and Vampired

A/N: My local grocery has a refrigerator/freezer section in the pet food aisle, but maybe these are not as ubiquitous as I assumed. Frosty Paws Ice Cream for Dogs is a real (and to me, hilarious) product.

The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. I am incredibly lucky to have FiniteAnarchy to beta this story. She's just fabulous. Thank you.

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Chapter 7 - Tarred and Vampired

I woke up in misery with my head pounding once again. Though I was obviously unhappy about the circumstances surrounding it, I was pleased to have a work-from-home day as a means of kick-starting my recuperation. I glanced at my clock and saw it was already a few minutes after ten. I grasped for my phone, and when I saw I had no missed calls, I let myself doze off for another half hour. It was rest badly needed.

By noon I was up and dressed in jeans and a big bulky sweater. I booted up my laptop and made some coffee, and found only after it had started brewing that I was out of milk and low on cereal, eggs, and a bunch of other things. I knew I was supposed to be working today, but as I had absolutely no intention of being out after dark tonight, nor even of leaving my house again until Sunday, I figured that my extra late start could be excused. I wasn't being irresponsible - I would absolutely get my work done, but I'd had a hell of a week, and darn it, I needed groceries.

The little thermometer by my kitchen window informed me that it was forty-two degrees outside. It was gray and overcast. I dug into my closet and emerged with a hat and scarf and gloves, preparing to greet the arctic wasteland that lay just beyond my front door. It had been a while since I had gone food shopping. I'd meant to go earlier this week, but obviously that hadn't happened.

Since I decided along the way it would be a big trip, I went over to the Walmart Super Center, rather than the Kroger's, which is nearer. It turned out to be a pretty decent time to shop. It wasn't very crowded, which is always nice. There was a man out front dressed up like Santa Claus ringing a bell for charity, and I added a couple of dollars to his collection.

I've heard that you're not supposed to shop when you're hungry. I was blissfully ignoring that sage advice. Though I had my list, I wandered between the shelves and just grabbed what looked good.

After I ran through the food section, I pushed the laden trolley around the rest of the store. It was all decorated for the holiday with big displays on the ends of the aisles, full of convenient, impersonal gifts. I found a pair of shearling house slippers for Gran, and a car detailing kit for Jason. These weren't their main presents, just little extras. I found a wonderful cozy blanket, and when I couldn't think of anyone to give it to as a gift, I decided it would be coming home with me.

Absurdly, at the end of the aisle containing pet supplies, there was a huge refrigerated case containing Cool Kitty Cutlets, Frosty Paws Ice Cream, and all sorts of fancy fresh foods for animals that require cold storage. Adjacent to all this was a huge stock of synthetic blood. I snorted my amusement at so obvious an insult. Way to make your politics known, Walmart. On the other hand, this stuff _had_ proven itself to be pretty useful for fending off an agitated vampire. I grabbed a six pack of TruBlood in type O-negative and popped it into the wagon. O-negative blood, I remembered from high school health class, is the universal donor type. Based on that logic, it would have universal appeal to vampires. I pulled that one right from my rear end, but it sounded reasonable to me. The next display featured decorated holiday tins filled with different kinds of butter cookies. I grabbed one of those, too.

I don't see a lot of point in decorating my house for Christmas. We celebrate the day down on Bon Temps. I don't have a lot of guests who would appreciate the festive ornaments. I don't have a lot of guests, period. I stopped at one of the three giant, open rows of frippery and falderal and debated getting a little light-up tree or something. It just seemed pointless. With a sigh I turned away from the shelf and selected a box of cards and a roll of wrapping paper. That was about all I needed. I considered doubling back for some ice cream, but didn't feel like going for lap 2 around the enormous store. Thoughts of the holidays left me feeling a little melancholy.

Bobby Burnham was parked in front of my house when I returned. He sat in his car until I'd completed each of the three over-burdened trips it took me to unload my trunk. Not that it was his job to help me or anything, but I feel like most people would have offered a hand. I mean, he was plainly here to see me. When he still didn't approach after I'd gotten the last of it inside, I rolled my eyes in his general direction and started putting things away. He finally did knock a few minutes later, and he had a couple of minutes to wait in the cold while I got the last of my purchases into cabinets. Two can play at that game.

I opened the door and he held out a thick, cream-colored envelope.

"Mr. Northman asked that this be delivered to you today," he informed me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it and turning it over in my hands. It was addressed simply to Miss Sookie Stackhouse.

I was about to make a snippy remark about how he could have just left it in the mailbox when I read from his mind that he'd been specifically ordered to present this to me in person. I think Eric might troll his day guy, a little bit. I just love that expression. Real trolls are so rare as to be practically extinct. I've never met one, but Niall has told me stories.

Mr. Burnham had been waiting a little over half an hour for me to return. It was clear that he was very curious about the contents of the missive and so I obliged him and opened it. The folded note inside simply read:

She is well.

-E

The signature was scrawled a lot larger than the short sentence that preceded it.

Since I am a person who is exposed to an awful lot of extraneous information on a near perpetual basis, I could appreciate the vampire's brevity. I took this to mean that Pam was restored to her formal self with no appreciable complications.

I smiled. Though I'd been fairly certain when we parted last night that she would be, I found it immeasurably reassuring to have this confirmed. So much can go wrong when you're dealing with magic, and what the witches had been attempting to do to Pam was wholly untested, as far as I knew, making it all the more risky.

"Thanks," I said again. "Please tell him thank you for letting me know."

Bobby frowned at that. He was immediately haughty about being tasked by me to do anything, even something as simple as passing along a message. Beyond that, he was annoyed that said message was so vague. He was very curious about why he'd been instructed to carry me messages personally twice now. He wanted very much to know exactly what his boss had to tell me, what I was grateful to learn. He was terribly nosy, this guy! But, he was also too afraid of Eric to try to read the letter or ask himself. At least he's not stupid.

Once Eric's day guy departed, I got to work on my analysis. Without some of the references I would have at work it was slow going initially, but once I hit my stride I got a lot done. Maybe even more than I would have gotten done at Splendide, since my coffee was so much more conveniently nearby and I had no interruptions. By seven in the evening my stomach was grumbling so I emailed what I'd done to Brenda so she could have information to start forwarding to potential buyers. She called me back within minutes.

"Sookie, thanks for getting a start on that today," she began.

"Sure thing Brenda. Though I need to confess, I got a very late start this afternoon."

"That's alright. We all had a late night last night."

"How did things go after I left?"

"We didn't get the vault sealed until four this morning," she informed me, and I groaned right along with her.

"Were you there all day?"

"I got a few hours of sleep before going back. Someone from Upper Management is coming tomorrow to assess the situation here."

"Oh." My voice was dull. I could picture her nodding her agreement.

Splendide is an international enterprise, but it's small compared to some of the better known auctioneers. It's been around for as long as those esteemed houses, maybe longer, but under many different names. Upper Management is how Brenda and I refer to the owner of Splendide, or his agents. Mintah is a very intimidating guy. Well, he's a very intimidating mostly-demon. He has almost nothing to do with the operation of the company. That's all left to humans for the most part, and it runs like a regular human business.

Demons, at least part-demons, fit very well into the few in-between places in the supe world and the human world as well. They have a good reputation for neutrality, here. They have no appeal to vampires, blood-wise. I'm not even sure vamps can ingest demon blood. Demons and fairies have always gotten along well in general, because of the distant relation between the two races. Since the two-natured tend to only object to things that directly interfere with them, and demons don't, they are largely indifferent.

It's a pretty small population of demons that frequent this world. There are far fewer of them around than fairies, even. I happen to know a several demons and part-demons, but they're not like the two-natured or the vampires, who tend to turn up all over the place. It's a relatively small community. Not tight-knit, just narrow in scope.

Mintah is ancient. I don't think you can survive to be that old without being incredibly crafty or incredibly dangerous, and most likely both. He is also in exile from Hell. The Underworld. Their own world.

It's not really anything to do with Christianity. Nor is it like what Dante Alighieri imagined either, from what I've been told. It's still nowhere I'd want to visit, not that I could. A creature with enough enemies to put him on the outs with Hell though, that's what Mintah is. It's definitely not because he's an angel. Angels are... oh _anyway_.

If Upper Management is coming here, it means he's taking this robbery personally. You do _not_ want a creature like Mintah pissed off at you. He's not mean. He's not even rude, when you meet him, though he's quite serious. The word "exacting" comes to mind. As in severe or captious. As in exacting punishment.

Yes. Exacting.

"Are you okay?" I asked Brenda tremulously. Brenda couldn't be blamed for the robbery. She'd been the last person out of the building. The vault had been secure, the guard had been in place, and the alarms had been set. It was routine. There'd been no slips, no oversights, no carelessness. I wasn't nervous for her on that score, but I would still completely understand her if she was freaking out a little bit.

"Yes," she said, though I heard her gulp.

"What did the police say?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Well they're still waiting for Chip to wake up," she began.

"Really? He was that injured?"

"I think they were, or are, keeping him out. Whatever hit him... well, they're concerned about his brain swelling or something. He's the only potential eye-witness."

"Who is guarding him?" I asked immediately.

"The police."

"Do we know how they got in?"

"They were able to override the timer and somehow force through one of the electronic locks. That was the power surges I guess."

"So quickly..." I began. Cracking a ten digit combination, even if you have the software to run through the permutations, still takes a lot of time.

"I don't know. More to the point I don't know _why_," she said.

I caught myself nodding, though she couldn't see it. "Nor I," I agreed vehemently. "Nothing missing was particularly singular."

"We'll have to see what They say tomorrow." I could hear her capitalizing the "They."

"Call me and let me know?" I ask her.

"I may have to call you to come down, depending on what they ask," Brenda warns me.

"Sure," I agree. So much for my weekend at home.

"Get some sleep tonight then," she says. "Or are you being allowed to?"

"I'm allowed to and I plan to. I concluded my obligation last night, for now anyway."

I heard her draw a breath as though she were going to say another something cautioning about my unwilling dealings with the vampires. I just didn't want to hear it.

"Sleep actually sounds like a really good idea, Brenda. I think I'm going to curl up on the couch for a little while."

"Alright Sook," she sighed. "I'll talk to you soon then."

We said goodnight then. We needed to talk a lot more, but there's only so much you can say on a cell phone.

I closed my laptop and tucked away the notes I'd been working with. I put a frozen pizza in the oven, set a timer on it, and while it was cooking I flipped on the television searching for a movie or something to watch. I suppose I must have been more tired than I realized because the next thing I knew there was a high keening sound and it was incredibly hot and something was burning? I leapt out of bed but of course I wasn't in bed, so I wasn't expecting the coffee table and I tripped and went down hard landing on my chin. I let out a low whimper as pain flashed through me, and had a moment to identify my smoke alarm, intermingled with the incessant beeping of the microwave timer I'd set. Who knows how long that had been going off.

I struggled to my feet and stumbled into the kitchen, remembering at least to pull an oven mitt on before I wrenched the pan containing the charred remains of what would have been my dinner out and into the sink, flipping on the cold water. I hit the button on the microwave to stop that and then flung open the nearest window to the cold night. I dragged a chair over to the smoke alarm and tried to pry it open, my aim set on disconnecting its battery. After a moment or two of pawing ineffectually at the impenetrable plastic casing, I climbed down and went for a notebook to fan away the smoky air.

Where's a six and a half foot tall flying vampire when you actually need him, huh?

The blaring alarm had finally subsided when a quick rapping came at my door. Oh hell, I prayed someone hadn't called the fire department. There were no flashing lights outside though, and the brain outside wasn't one I could read. A peep through the front window showed me a not unwelcome visitor. I opened the door.

"Hey," I greeted. I sounded weary.

Diantha was sniffing at the air with a wry smirk on her face. "Playingwithfire?" she asked, in her quick manner of speech.

"All done for now. Sorry you missed the fun," I said, stepping back to let her in. She flicked her fingers in a wave hello as she entered and a thin tendril of smoke curled up. She wore a wicked smile, teal blue leggings, purple shorts, and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt with artful cutouts, knotted together in some kind of pattern.

"Looking good," I observed. She looked like she was headed to a wild rave or a rock concert, but in that context, she looked great.

"Thanks," she said, looking me over in kind. "Youlooklikeshit."

"Thanks," I returned sardonically.

I swung the door back and forth a few times, helping to pull some fresh air in and push some more of the foul air out before I closed it more securely. I opened the front windows and switched on the ceiling fan to help with that before heading back into the kitchen.

"Have a seat," I offered, and Diantha pulled the chair I'd tried to scramble up on back over to the table and sat down in it. "Can I offer you a drink?" I asked, and poured some tea out for both of us when she accepted. I drank mine down and started puttering around the kitchen, flipping on the fans and soaking the charred pizza pan. I assumed correctly that the burnt smell in the air wouldn't bother Diantha at all.

"Unclesentme" she told me. "He'sworriedaboutyou."

"I appreciate that," I said. "But I'm mostly fine."

"Mintah'scominghere."

"Brenda told me," I confirmed, though not that it was Mintah himself.

"Hesaidyouhadtoworkforthevamps."

"Just the one," I agreed. "But that's done now."

"Why'dyouburnyourfood?" she asked me.

"I didn't mean to," I frowned at her. "I fell asleep while it was cooking."

"Shouldn'tdothat," she informed me.

"Thanks for the tip," I smirked.

"Noproblem," she said offhandedly. "I'msupposedtogiveyouthis," she said, producing a small box and sliding it to me, across the table. Who knows where she'd had it tucked away? Her shorts didn't exactly accommodate a lot of pocket space.

"What is it?" I asked. She just stared at me blankly, before looking at the box, then back to me. I took her meaning. What are you asking me for? Just open it.

Nestled in some cotton was a small pendant on a silver chain.

"It'sforprotection."

"I've already got silver jewelry though," I frowned.

"Itsforillintent. Causeyoucan'theareveryone. Givesaspark."

"What?"

"It's a charm against ill intent. Because you can't hear," and here she tapped her head, "everyone." Diantha has two speeds; normal fast, and so slow it's like she's explaining to a foreign person who is also very stupid. This was spoken in the latter.

"So it's a charm against ill-intentioned vampires?"

She nodded.

"And it gives a spark when they are?"

She nodded again.

"Okay then," I said, shrugging. "What do you mean by a spark?" I said distractedly, as I lifted the necklace out of its box and reached behind my neck to fasten it.

She leaned over and pressed a fingertip underneath my arm and gave me a little jolt.

"Yowch!" I shrieked, my hands immediately shooting down. She leaned out of the way with a devilish grin that showed off the sharpened points of her teeth.

"Littlespark."

"Please don't ever feel compelled to show me a big spark," I muttered, rubbing my arm. She grinned wider. "So how's life in the Big Easy?" I asked.

"TheQueen'sgetttingmarried."

"Yeah? To whom?"

"MaybeArkansas. MaybeMississippi."

"She hasn't decided yet?" I chuckled. "Some gals have all the luck, eh?"

She gave me a curious look, but I waved her off. Instead I asked about both the Arkansas and Mississippi vamps she'd met. Diantha works for her uncle as a messenger, or a runner, which means that she's often employed carrying messages for the Queen. That's a literal carry, and a literal run. I knew without being told that she had run here from New Orleans, which is several hours away by car. She's very fast. I suppose Eric is not the only person who hasn't embraced email for important communiques.

We chatted for a while longer until she had to go. Diantha is not a hugger. You wouldn't want her to be. She's way stronger than she looks, first of all, but when you do hug her you can feel how wrong and weird her body is. Despite her lithe frame, or maybe because of it, she's bumpy and muscled where no muscles should be. She's very hard and there's a tension in her, like a spring coiled as tightly as it can go before it must unwind. It's just not a particularly comforting experience. Instead, she pressed her hand to my shoulder and let a comfortable warmth radiate through me as she departed. It was a nice little visit.

I sprayed some air freshener around in the front rooms and finished tidying up. Back in my bedroom, I could barely smell the evidence of the oven disaster, which was a relief. I cracked my window anyway and snuggled down into bed.

Saturday I got my wish of having nothing to do after all, so I tended to some things around the house in the morning and spent the afternoon intermittently napping on the couch and watching old movies. I waited for Brenda to call, but she never did, and I hoped that Niall would visit, but he never did either. Around four o'clock I finally got up and took a shower. I'd once read in an advice column that if you feel lousy, you can try to make yourself look nice, and it'll pep you up. A little psychosomatic healing, I guess. It couldn't hurt, and frankly, I didn't want any more visitors showing up and telling me how like shit I looked. That's no good feeling.

So I scrubbed, and shaved, and washed and conditioned. After I got out of the shower I dried and styled my hair and slathered myself in lotion. Stupid winter. Darn. I should have tried to go to the tanning salon today. My pedicure was holding up well, but I stripped the polish off my fingernails. As I did so, I couldn't ignore the fact that my injury was looking worse and worse.

Maybe I really should have taken Eric up on the offer of healing. I didn't know if he'd meant that he would just seal the wound with his coagulant, or rub some of his blood on it, or what. It sounds gross, but thinking of it like a balm or a salve helps. I'd never tried it personally, but it must work. They leave all kinds of puncture marks in their "food," and normally wounds like that would continue bleeding after the vampire was done drinking. Since most donors don't walk around dripping blood, what the vampires do to seal the wounds and facilitate healing must be very effective.

There's also the possibility that he intended me to ingest some of his blood, which would heal from the inside out. That's a lot more effective, but then there's the litany of side-effects. May cause sex appeal, horniness, and the loss of free will. Talk to your Master about taking vampire blood...

Nah. It's not actually as cut and dry as that.

I'd read a study recently run by a group of doctors in a drug rehabilitation center about the lingering effects of vampire blood ingestion. They tended to fade within a few weeks. The scope of that study had been very limited, and hadn't even mentioned the influence that the vampire can have on the human, but I figured it was a decent guideline.

Hopefully I won't have to give it any more thought. With any luck my great grandfather would find me tomorrow at Gran's house, and be able to sort me out. It's pretty convenient to the nearest fairy portal. It technically _is_ the nearest fairy portal, out in her woods anyway.

I re-bandaged the one finger and polished the other nine with a pretty pink that was a near match to the color on my toes. It was like I was getting ready for a hot date or something, though of course I wasn't. The thought made me sigh. Well, the Queen of Louisiana has waited what, eleven, twelve hundred years to get married? I could stave off my own panic until I was at least thirty or so.

The problem for me is the telepathy plain and simple. Even though I've gotten a lot better with it since my high school days, I still can't quite keep everything out, and I wouldn't want to have to. At home, I like to be able to relax. When I first met Weres I was real excited about that prospect, but I've found, to my great disappointment, that the more I'm exposed to them, the easier they are to read; and then of course some things come through loud and clear regardless. Some of the other two-natured are a little fuzzier, but I worry that it'll be more of the same, once I get to know them. Plus, shifters and weres have got all sorts of breeding obligations, and I'm just not a sharer when it comes to men in my life. Even without the actual experience, I know I'm just not that kind of girl. Fairies are also kind of out for now, with the whole, "Half-breeds are an abomination," sentiment that many fairies hold. I'm just un-date-able.

With another sigh, I tested my freshly applied polish and found it dry. I padded out to the kitchen and set to making some dinner, determined to actually prepare and consume something more substantial than microwave popcorn before passing out again. My brow furrowed as I took in all the crap I'd purchased the day before. It seemed I'd picked up the supplies to bake Christmas cookies. Maybe I'd do that one night this week. I pulled a jar of spaghetti sauce and some pasta out of the cabinets and set the water to boiling.

Just as I sat down to my dinner there was a knock at my door. Vampire. My hand flew up to my collar and I felt the new pendant. Time for a test run, I guess. It wasn't the Sheriff, it was his child. I opened the door with a smile.

"Pam," I greeted warmly. "I'm so glad you're feeling better." It was a little odd to know her without having met her before, but it seemed the most polite thing to say. She was dressed in a daring black velvet ensemble; tight bodice, skirt slit up to her thigh, tall shoes. They made her only an inch or so taller than me. She was a tiny little thing, and my smile may have faltered as I took her in. This certainly wasn't the kind of getup I'd pictured the vampiress in, though it _was_ the kind of outfit that most humans might expect of a vampire.

"Miss Stackhouse?" she questioned.

"That's me," I agreed.

"My Master has bid me come to pay my respects to you and to thank you for the service you have done for he and I," she told me, in a quick, dispassionate tone.

"You're welcome," I smiled. This was a pleasant surprise. Even though I could see she was here out of obligation, it was a courtesy call I hadn't anticipated.

She stood there for a long moment, taking me in.

"He has also bid me to inquire after your health."

"I'm fine," I lied easily. I bit my lip for a moment before making a quick decision. "I'm just about to sit down to dinner. Would you like to come in for a moment? I can offer you a TruBlood?"

I was curious about her, plain and simple. I was curious about the fates of Daphne and her family as well. She would be bound to the same obligations as her maker concerning my security. It wasn't any more dangerous than what I'd already invited in, really.

"That would be...welcome," she agreed.

I stepped back to allow her inside. It was interesting to watch as she took in the layout of my little house in the same way Eric had done, her interested expression a mirror of his. I led her to the kitchen, and gestured to the table while I got a bottle of the blood out of the refrigerator.

"Would you like a glass?" I asked her, as it heated. "I'm afraid I don't know the etiquette."

"That is unnecessary. The detergents can leave a fine residue that is unpalatable." Good to know.

I folded a paper towel and set her drink down on top of it, then sat down again beside her and helped myself to my dinner while it was still warm.

"I am told it was you who discovered me in the witch's lair."

I snorted. Very attractive while eating. "It wasn't much of a _lair_. I take it you do not remember anything at all?"

"Bright light, and synthetic blood."

"They had you in kind of an underground bedroom. There were... soft sheets and pillows. I think they thought they were tending to you."

"She was very different from the others, when I met her," Pam said, after a long moment.

"Daphne?" I asked.

"Yes. She is not like the women at the club. I was not a... spectacle to her."

"She seemed very sweet-natured," I said.

"Yes, she was."

"Was?" I frowned.

"Is," Pam corrected. "But we have parted ways."

"That's probably for the best," I agreed.

"Yes. It is a lesson well learned."

"What lesson is that?" She'll probably miss the point, just like her maker.

"One of the many dangers of attaching oneself to any particular human," she said levelly. She must have been waiting for me to take offense.

I smirked. Yup. Just like her maker. "I think the mistake was failing to treat her like a person. I mean it's kind of obvious that you didn't know her very well, despite your _attachment_."

She raised her eyebrows at that, and I just shrugged.

"If I was dating somebody, I think I'd probably take the time to find out if their brother was a witch. I think I would want my dad to know their last name, too. I mean I know Daphne must have been out of touch with her family for a while. She didn't even know Diane had opened Lux Nails."

I twirled my fork around some more of my pasta and took a big bite, washing it down with some milk.

"It seems to me that if she was living a normal life, and you were having a normal relationship, none of this would have happened," I concluded.

"Normal for humans, you mean," she finally said.

"Isn't that what you guys claim to want? Normal lives, by human standards? I mean why bother coming out of the coffin if you're just going to keep up with all your old ways."

"Not everyone wants that."

"Do you?" I asked. This was the most interesting conversation I'd had in ages.

"I want to be myself," she said, flicking down her fangs and flashing me a startling smile. Not threatening, just off-putting. "I like not having to hide what I am."

"But you do," I argued. "Or else Daphne wouldn't have been under whatever misapprehensions she was about you guys. And even right now," I said, gesturing to her. "I mean for goodness sake, a velvet corset?"

"I am working tonight," she said defensively. "It is what is expected."

"Uh-huh," I said. Sheesh. You'd think she would merit another night off after what she'd been through!

"We all hide some parts of our nature, don't we, Miss Stackhouse?" She said it very pointedly, and I had to wonder if she was trying to get at more than just my telepathy.

"I suppose that's true. And it's Sookie, by the way."

"Sookie, then," she agreed. "I'm to ask you if you are suffering any bad effects from the magic you were exposed to. We have come to an agreement with the coven."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. I stood up to bring my plate over to the sink and went ahead washing it. A familiar lightheaded feeling washed over me, and I gripped the countertop as I steadied myself.

"Yes. They have been reeducated about the nature of vampires."

I let out a bark of laughter, my head rush leaving me giddy. "I'll just bet they have!"

"They have been made to know that vampires like being vampires," she said dismissively. "I take it you are not suffering then?" The tone of her voice told me she did not care for my laughter in this situation, and I had to agree it was inappropriate, but I just couldn't seem to stop myself.

"If I am, I'll do better than a crazy coven to correct it," I giggled. Why was I giggling? "I think I need to excuse myself Pam. I'm not feeling quite myself tonight."

A sharp spike of pain shot through my hand, radiating up my arm. I dropped the plate which tumbled from the edge of the sink and smashed on the floor. "I think I need to sit down," I slurred.

I woke up in my bed and two vampires, no, one vampire was pacing at the edge of my bed, talking low into a cell phone. My breath caught as I blinked, trying to focus. Suddenly, he was directly above me, and I flinched, making me cry out in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"You hit your head on the counter," Eric informed me. "And you fell in the broken crockery."

"Why are you here?"

"Pam called me. She was unsure what to do with you."

"What did you do with me?"

"I stopped your bleeding." So he'd had my blood. Damn damn damn!

"Thank you for that. I am fine now, you don't have to stay."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Really," I said. "You can go."

"I think not. You were obviously more damaged in your efforts to retrieve Pam than you let on. The wound you sustained on the road in front of the witch's house has worsened. You should have let me tend to it earlier. I will not be held responsible by your Sponsor for returning you in less than pristine condition."

"I'm not some freaking garden tool you borrowed," I gasped. I'd made to voice my indignation sitting up, but the pain across my back as I clenched my muscles had stopped me before I'd gotten started.

"Stop talking about me like I'm some object you need to 'return in pristine condition', I'm a _human being_." If I could have been yelling, I probably would have been. Instead, it came out low and strained.

"Yes. The _human_ daughter Corbett and Michelle. Orphaned at age seven. Raised by Adele Stackhouse, and the God-daughter of the demon lawyer Desmond Cataliades."

"Um. Yes," I stammered. Someone had definitely done his homework.

"And as a _human being_, you are less durable than your many supernatural friends."

I didn't bother to argue the many supernatural friends part. I didn't think I had many, but if he did, all the better. That's right buddy, many people will be ticked off if you mess with me. Many.

He stepped nearer to the bed, crouching so we were on a level. He looked over at me with a long, pondering gaze that I returned with one equally searching.

"I would like you to take some of my blood," he said at last.

"Why?"

"It will heal your physical injuries and provide you with increased vigor as you recover from the stresses to your body."

"And it will let you feel my emotions and be able to track me down."

"If you know this, then you know it can also be to your benefit. If you were in danger, for example..."

"The only thing I'm in danger from is you!"

"That is unlikely. You are in danger from anyone opportunistic and mercenary who learns of your ability. You hardly live a cloistered life. I offer this as an extension of my protection."

"I have no desire to be one of your blood thralls, Sheriff."

He got right in my face then, and there was no doubt he was angry. I lifted my hand to clench at the silver pendant. C'mon sparky, give the signal and this guy's invite is rescinded. He glanced down and noted the silver. He moved back, very slightly.

"I do not keep _thralls_. I do not so freely share my blood with humans."

"Then why?"

"I have just explained to you why."

"You explained the benefit to me. What's the benefit to you?"

"Arguably your protection _is_ of benefit to me. A telepath in good health is infinitely more _useful_ than one who has a fainting spell every other day. It would be equally beneficial to me to know what you are feeling. Your speech and behavior make little sense. Beyond that, you would be inclined to think... more kindly of me."

"I'd be more sexually attracted to you, don't mince words," I huffed out.

"More? That is good to know. But yes."

"And?" I prompted.

"And it will mark you as belonging to me to any vampires who happen across your path."

"I don't want to belong to you."

"You are being belligerent."

"I am expressing reasonable concerns," I shot back.

"It is an appearance. It justifies my interest in you to any who look. It gives my child the right to defend you."

"You'll use it to influence my decisions and how I feel."

He raised his eyebrows at that, for some reason. "I admit I am curious to try, particularly as you cannot be glamoured." I was curious too, and for the same reasons, but that alone surely was no reason to go ahead with it. Gran reminded me often as a child about curiosity and the cat.

"But," he continued. "I have no intention of attempting to control you through any blood tie, even if it proves possible."

"And I just have to trust your word on that."

"As I will be trusting you with my blood," he answered.

His saying it like that reminded me that this _was_ a big deal to them. To vampires. Especially this week, when he'd been so recently reminded that there are witches abroad. That kind of blood magic is rare, but this is Louisiana after all. It would take me a lot more effort to search out a voodoo priestess than it would take him to exert his will on _me_, but technically, he didn't need magic of any sort to control me if he wanted to. He was giving me something.

"Fine," I agreed.

"Fine?"

"I will take a little bit of your blood to heal and protect and invigorate me, but you are not to use it to try to manipulate or influence me in any way without my say-so, do you agree?"

"I will agree to this," he nodded. I nodded back, accepting his word.

He was the first to break the solemn moment.

"Is there anything else? Dawn is not for another five hours or so, if you wish to continue arguing with me." He had the hint of a smirk. It was the closest thing to good humor I could recall seeing in his face.

"Funny," I said. It was not very funny. Exchanging blood with a vampire is not a funny business. "How do we do this then?"

He stood up, raising his wrist to his mouth. It put his groin right above my eye level, and I did manage to pull myself into a sitting position then, if only to give myself a little distance. There was a tiny puncture noise before he dropped his hand, holding the interior of his wrist in front of me. When I didn't move in right away, he reminded me to drink. I leaned forward and lapped tentatively at the drips. I shuddered in revulsion as the thick, cool, coppery liquid spread across my tongue, but he pushed his wrist to my mouth and after a moment I latched on. As I swallowed the taste changed to something fresh and salty, and as I drew on the little wound I felt his other hand come up to stroke my hair and the back of my head. I lifted my hand to hold him to me and tried desperately to ignore the way his hips rocked forward slightly, in time with my every pull. When he let out a long, low moan, I decided that was enough. I smoothed my own hand over my head, brushing him away, and laid back again enjoying the hot, effervescent sensation of his blood now coursing through me. No wonder people get addicted to this stuff.

He'd turned away from me and as I stretched my arms and legs. I assumed he was making some adjustments of his own. I knew_ I_ was supposed to find him more tantalizing now, but my taking his blood had apparently raised a much more immediate response in that vein for him. I smirked. I felt myself feeling better with every breath I took. I held up my hand in front of my face. It seemed to be shimmering in the light.

"Do I look glow-y to you?" I flicked my wrist back and forth, mesmerized. Yeah, I was a little high.

"Glow-y?" He managed to sound like he was questioning both the word itself and my use of it.

I reached over and flicked off the light on my bedside table. Definitely glowing.

"Like you guys, just a little."

"You can see our glow," he stated.

"Sure," I agreed. Oh. Probably shouldn't have said that.

"And you saw a shed that was not there."

"Pardon?"

"Where Pam was held. I could not see it. Tray Dawson could not see it. He had to follow the feel of the magic to reach it. It took him a long time. And _you_ could not be woken."

"Oh."

"What are you?"

"Human," I said softly. "Just a human with telepathy."

"No."

I forced myself to be calm. He got right in my face again, staring hard at me.

"You will tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

He stood back then. I'll admit that I was a little breathless.

"For now, I must go," he said, and moved toward my bedroom door. "I will come tomorrow night. We have more to discuss," he informed. Great.

"Um, alright."

"You _will_ tell me," was the last thing he said, before he was gone.

Well. Thanks?


	8. Like a Vampire in the Wind

A/N: The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy is the beta for this story. She's like Catherine, Alexander, and Frosted Flakes.

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Chapter 8 - Like a Vampire in the Wind

I managed to fall asleep pretty easily after Eric left me, so it wasn't until the morning that I had the opportunity to question my actions of the night before. I woke up very early and found that, just as advertised, my cuts and scrapes had healed. For the first time all week my head was not throbbing. It was practically buzzing, the way it does when I'm flush with endorphins. I felt good. My thoughts had cleared; I was no longer in the babbling stupor that I'd been in when Eric had departed last night. Though I found I felt perfectly awake, I went to put the coffee on out of habit.

My kitchen was a total mess. I knew that a lot of the stubborn red splatter was spaghetti sauce, but some was definitely my blood. I was intensely grateful to realize, once I saw it, that Pam was obviously a vampire of great self-control. The broken shards of the plate I'd dropped had scattered everywhere. I retreated to the bedroom and put on shoes, got my dust bin out, and then the vacuum to go over everything when I was through.

I'd given more power and control over me to vampire who already had a great deal of it. This was a temporary measure, and it would eventually dissipate. Health-wise, it had immediate benefits. I unwrapped my finger and saw that the dark blister had dissipated. I flexed it, and it tingled slightly, but there was no pain. The wound itself had vanished, as if it had never been. I filled a bowl with warm water and bleach for the tile floor. I had all-purpose cleaner for the counter and cabinets. It would have to suffice to banish the lingering scent of my blood. It's not like I could burn down my kitchen.

Eric hadn't forced me to take his blood, and he easily could have. It wasn't even a matter of physically forcing me, which he was also capable of doing; I'd been unconscious. If he really hadn't been interested in giving me a choice, he wouldn't have needed to. He was right about it providing me with some measure of protection. I suppose now if another vampire did try to snatch me away, he could say that I was "his" and tell that other vampire to scoot. I was still pretty sure he wouldn't step in like that if it came to any of the bigwigs. I'd have to wait until I saw him again to see about the rest of it.

Cleaning the kitchen didn't take as long as I'd anticipated, I noticed when I checked the clock. I decided to try and earn a few extra brownie points by arriving in Bon Temps in time to meet Gran for church. I washed up and dressed in cold weather tights and boots, a corduroy skirt and a long sweater. It was dressing nicely at its coziest. My hair was particularly bouncy today, so I wore it down and added just a hint of mascara and gloss for my lips. Getting ready for church is always a precarious balance between keeping it obvious you'd made an effort to look nice, without looking like you were trying to show off. I'd hear about it if I failed to hit the mark, but I thought I was okay.

I am a Christian.

I believe in God, and I believe in Jesus. It's just that I'm really an awful Christian and an unrepentant sinner. I fail on the absolute basics, breaking most of Ten Commandments on really regular basis.

Just starting at the top, with the worship and honor of other deities. A lot of Christians will tell you that there simply are no other gods but our God, and that's that. Well, I just can't agree with that. While I don't worship any other gods, I think I've seen too much to deny their existence, or at the very least, that God has been known in many ways, by many names. Next, acknowledging icons and idols. That's a fairly consistent part of my profession. Taking the Lord's name in vain is something I try not to do, but I do it. I may not _mean_ it; if I stub my toe and I shriek "Damn it!" I'm not literally beseeching God to condemn my coffee table. I do curse though. Even if I catch myself and say "sugar," that doesn't stop the fact that I _meant_ "shit."

I don't go to church as regularly as I ought to, and when I skip, I don't spend the sabbath reflecting on God's creation of the heavens and earth. I don't take that story literally, either. I steal from people, and I lie _constantly_. Granted I try to replace what I steal, and I steal things that people shouldn't have, and could harm themselves with, or be harmed for having, but it's still theft. The lying, I don't even know where to begin. I try not to outright lie, though sometimes I can't avoid it, but lies of omission are still lies. It's the intention that matters. I also lie to protect myself from danger. Sometimes I think that God would forgive me that, and sometimes I think it's a test of faith that I'm perpetually failing. Coveting? I covet the life of almost every normal person I meet.

Basically, I'm sitting pretty with a clean track record for never cheating in a relationship, which is an easy accomplishment when you've never really been in one. I like to think I wouldn't. Honoring and obeying my parents is also easy, since they are dead and I can barely remember them. I extend that one to my grandmother though, and I like to think that I succeed there. I cherish her dearly, and forgive her anything. I also have a vast respect for Niall. I am deeply grateful to them both. Though he's not my relative technically, I think I feel this way about Mr. Cataliades as well.

And then there's killing people, which I've also never done, nor had occasion to do. But had I condemned people to death by using my ability? Yes. Would I kill to save myself or someone I loved? I... I don't know.

I like to think that I am kind to those I meet. I hope I am forgiving, and understanding. I help where I am able. God knows I try to be a good person. At least, I hope he does.

I arrived at Gran's and let myself in through the side door leading to the kitchen. She was already up and dressed and aproned, busy making some preparations for our lunch this afternoon. She turned around and smiled when I said good morning, and I realized that until I'd spoken, she hadn't known that I was there. She hadn't heard me come up the driveway, nor let myself in. I worry about her living out here alone sometimes. My brother is around, and though he checks in often, I know it's not every day.

We have talked a time or two about the possibility of her coming to live with me in Shreveport. I don't think she wants to leave this house though, nor can I truly picture it. This house and this land have been in our family for generations. I wouldn't want there to not be a Stackhouse living here. I sometimes regret that I couldn't stay on. I love this house. I have such a sense of peace and wellbeing when I'm here.

Gran rinsed off her hands, drying them on the front of her apron and crossed to me and gave me a big hug. It's wonderful to be around people who are truly delighted to see you, and kind of rare for me.

"Sookie, you look beautiful today," she smiled at me.

"Thank you. I thought I'd join you this morning, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind."

My morning and afternoon with Gran were enjoyable for us both. She loved having me around, and I loved both being around and seeing her happy. Jason came by not long after we'd returned to the house to fix a drafty window in the front room. In Gran's eyes, this almost entirely made up for the fact that he had not come to church with us. I went ahead and took a walk while he was caulking and she was cooking. I found myself predictably, if not quite intentionally, in the small clearing that housed the fairy portal.

Our woods are just regular woods; there's no ethereal quality to them. It's not like in the movies where the trees seem alive in more than the common way, and tiny pixies are drinking the dew beneath every other broad leaf. There's no soft tinkling music echoing just out of earshot. It's just trees and twigs, stunted shrubbery and brambles. I saw the tail ends of some deer darting away as I came upon them unexpectedly, but that was all.

The portal itself is unguarded. I'm almost positive it would be invisible and undetectable to most people and supes, not that I've ever brought anyone here to confirm that. The only clue to something unusual about the spot is the way the grasses tend to stay short and the bushes don't seem to encroach. Maybe there's also an extra smattering of wildflowers. It's a pretty place. The actual aperture looks to me like a haze in the air. I've always been afraid to stand too near to it. Technically I could enter it, but I never would. I'd expressed a desire to see Faery once or twice; a strange and beautiful land, another dimension, full of things I'd never know or see in this world. Who wouldn't be curious?

Even with the protection of Niall, it wouldn't be safe for me there. It wasn't only a matter of the immediate threats therein, but also of more fairies identifying me and associating me with him. That would leave me at greater risk in this world, as well. As far as that threat was concerned, the recent tie I'd acquired to the vampire would probably be helpful. I realized I might have to tell Eric about this connection at some point. He hadn't seemed to identify the fairy component in my blood. Either that, or he was deliberately testing my willingness and ability to lie to him. I was pretty certain it was the former.

I suppose I'd wandered out here in the hopes of meeting Niall on his way to visit me. I knew the chance was really slim, but I _had_ called him after all, and he did have a way of turning up. There was a faint shimmer across the edge of the portal and for a moment I thought that my wish was about to be granted. When my great grandfather did not appear, I was suddenly overcome with a terrible feeling of uneasiness as I remembered that though this was my family's land, and this portal had been created by my kin, its use was not exclusive to them. Here was I standing right in front of a gateway through which anything could emerge, and suddenly this seemed like a really terrible place to linger. I moved swiftly back to the farmhouse, realizing only just before I left the woods that I was practically running. I stopped at the tree line to catch my breath, relieved to see that I hadn't snagged my clothing on anything.

Sitting around Gran's kitchen table, it was I who had the most interesting gossip to share, considering the robbery at Splendide. She and Jason listened with rapt attention while I told her all about being summoned late night to be questioned by the police and help do the inventory. They wanted to know what was taken and how people had managed to get in. Neither of them knows the exact nature of my work, though Gran has her assumptions, considering she knows who helped place me in the job. Jason knows about me of course, but the bulk of the supernatural world is still a mystery to him. It's for the best where he's concerned. Sometimes I feel strange about not being able to talk about certain things with them. Usually, I'm able to tell myself that it's normal to not discuss certain aspects of your private life with your family. It's just that in my case, "private life" has a different meaning.

"Damn Sook. So what happens now? Do they have any leads? Are they going to have to question you again?" My brother was thinking that city-life suddenly sounded very exciting. His mild profanity earned him a sharp look from our grandmother, but she said nothing to scold him as she was equally curious about the questions he'd posed.

"I'm not sure what kind of leads they have. They had us closed down on Friday, and they told me to keep my phone on in case they needed me, but they haven't called me again."

"Do you think it's safe for you to keep working there?" Gran asked.

"I'm not too worried at the moment," I said thoughtfully. "Right after something like this is when everyone gets hyper-vigilant concerning security, that's true for anything. But that's probably the safest time, isn't it? I mean the damage has already been done. They already got what they came for," I concluded.

"That's true," agreed Gran, though she didn't sound entirely certain.

"I'm not worried about getting hurt at Splendide, Gran. Whoever it was waited until everyone was out of the building. We have at least one security guard on duty at all times, and Brenda's been seeing about hiring some tougher guys in the evenings, too, even before all this."

"If you're sure, honey," she said, reaching over to pat my hand I caught her fingers and gave them a little squeeze to convey my sincerity.

"I'm sure."

"You know Sook, I gotta say... I didn't think that was going to be your big news," said Jason, a sly smile forming across his face.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "It's the biggest news of my week!" Arguably. It was at least the biggest news of my week that I could freely discuss at the dinner table with my human family.

"I thought you were gonna tell us about your new man," my brother said, smirking.

I nearly choked on the tea I was sipping. "Pardon?"

I heard my grandmother hum beside me and turned to look at her with equal disbelief.

"Uh, there's no new man," I said to both of them.

"Oh come on Sook, you're all gussied up, you've been happy and smiling all day," my brother said.

"I'm all gussied up because I went to church this morning, unlike some people," I shot back. "And I always smile."

"Yeah, but this is your real smile," he shrugged.

I frowned. It's not like I was terribly surprised to realize that my family knows me quite well. Jason was contrasting whatever smiling I'd done today with my usual forced smile. That's my default expression in the face of hearing unwanted things from people's minds. I realized it only in that moment, but I was having an easier time of keeping my shields in place, both here with them and this morning at church.

"You're practically glowing, dear," Gran agreed.

My eyes shot down to my hands. Could she see it? No. I couldn't even see it in the broad daylight like this. They're talking about whatever physical effects the vampire blood had on me, and perhaps the mental ones, if they improved my power to control my ability.

"There's no man," I said, and I let my tone drift towards what I'm ashamed to say was my usual despondence. "I just thought I'd make myself look nice this morning, and I've just had a nice afternoon with you both," I shrugged.

Jason continued treating me to his appraising stare but my beloved grandmother put an end to his questioning with a stern look followed by her getting up to serve the pecan pie. Talk about a one-two punch for quelling a subject. She gave me a sly wink as my brother dug in to the plate she set before him, so I knew the subject wasn't totally dropped for her. I didn't stay for long after that. I wanted to be home well before dark. It wasn't because I expected company; it was simply my habit, whenever possible. It was something they understood.

Gran packed me some leftovers to take home and let me know she'd call me tomorrow. She was already mentally running through a list of several friends she needed to inform about the robbery in Shreveport. I couldn't say I minded much about her spreading the news. It had likely been covered in the local paper yesterday or today. Gran had stopped taking delivery of the newspaper herself a couple of years ago. The print was too small and she just preferred word of mouth.

Brenda called while I was on the highway to let me know that I needed to come to Splendide.

"Sure," I sighed. "I'm on my way back from Bon Temps. I can be there in forty minutes maybe."

"They're really eager to talk to you," she warned.

"Um, should I be nervous?" I asked.

"Do you have anything to be nervous about, Sookie?" She sounded serious.

"No...everything alright Brenda?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sorry. It's been a really stressful day. I just need you to get here as soon as possible please."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'll tell them."

She hung up. I could only imagine that Brenda's weekend with Upper Management had been intense. Her exposure to supernatural creatures tends to be sanitized. Everyone who walks in our door at Splendide is there to do business as an upstanding citizen. The things I'd seen in the last week in the company of the Sheriff; torture, interrogation, the _use_ of their strengths and their powers, wasn't something that Brenda had been exposed to. She was aware of supes. She knows they're not human. But seeing is very different to knowing. I hoped she was holding up.

A dark clad figure ghosted to my side as I strode across the parking lot. He was huge; a shape-shifter of some kind, and not one I'd encountered before. His mind was colder and tighter than the crimson snarl of a Were, but there was no doubt he was a predator. Somehow the word that stuck with me was "older," though he looked no more than forty. He wasn't being aggressive. He was a guard. That's all I could get. I felt him lean in to scent me as I probed his mind. We took each other's measure. He let me in to the front of the building and remained outside.

Brenda and Mintah were alone in the parlor. Another guard stood by the entry. There was another mind present downstairs, and one in Brenda's office. I entered and watched Mintah set down a delicate tea cup in its matching saucer. Brenda looked up at me with tired eyes and a small smile and Mintah stood.

"Sookie, darling child. It has been far too long since I have seen you." His voice was cool and rasping, the way old men or life long smokers can't help but rasp, and despite the words, there was no affection in the tone. He opened his arms to embrace me, and I walked to meet him. I knew it was a deliberate gesture, knew that as my own ability was enhanced by touch, so too was his. I didn't know exactly what his was. I didn't think it was telepathy, or at least I was certain it wasn't _just_ telepathy. He was choosing to present as fatherly. I let my mental shields completely slip away, in a tacit effort to show him I was concealing nothing. I did not dare try to read him as I was sure he was reading me. He held my arms for a moment after our hug, pulling back to search my eyes. His were pools of black.

Brenda was miffed. Exhausted, and irritated that I received such a familiar greeting from him. Both Mintah and I turned to her at the same moment. She blanched. I offered her a little smile.

"Please sit with us," Mintah told me, gesturing for me to take my seat beside Brenda.

I held his eye for a moment as I reflexively reassembled the most basic blocks in my mind; the ones that keep me sane. He gave me the slightest of nods, so felt at liberty to proceed.

"Did you enjoy the day with your grandmother?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir. My brother was over to visit as well. She sent me home with some of her pecan pie."

"How charming."

I doubted he had ever been charmed by anything in his long existence, but this satisfied the quota of small talk.

"The problem that has presented itself this afternoon, Sookie, is that the inventory list you created with the police on Thursday does not match the one that my servant created yesterday. Ms. Hesterman verified both, and she assures me that both were correct."

"I'm not sure I follow sir, what did I miss?"

"That is the peculiar thing. There are several differences. Objects that were accounted missing are present. Objects that were present are now missing. How do you explain this?"

I grew tense immediately, unsure if he was asking me to explain my errors, or the differences. He didn't sound accusatory, any more than he had succeeded in sounding kindly as he called me darling child. I had no idea what answer he wanted.

"I...am not sure that I could explain that. Detective Ambroselli was beside me as I accounted for each item on our inventory lists. I believe if I had missed anything she would have pointed it out. I do not believe I missed anything. If the lists are the same, and the vault has remained sealed, I cannot begin to guess why there would be a disparity."

"I do not believe you missed anything, either."

"Then, how?" I was baffled. I thought hard. The only way for things to get in and out of the vault would be to open the vault, right? There are wards in place to prevent magical entry, so a fairy couldn't just teleport in there. It's thickly iron anyway. And if people _could _teleport in, or break in some less obtrusive way, why go to the trouble in the first place?

"The vault had stayed sealed, right?" I asked to clarify. "Definitely?"

Mintah nodded to me. "We are certain of that."

"What's missing now?"

"Let us go and see." That was curious.

Mintah rose and I did the same, but he motioned for Brenda to stay behind. That unnerved me a little.

"Brenda, please relax for a few minutes. You will be safe with Ghellert," he nodded toward the guard stationed at the entryway. I didn't think the chance of Brenda being able to relax was very high at all.

He took my hand and brought it to his arm and we walked almost in procession downstairs. I understood this was more deliberate physical contact and so I took his arm and tried to pretend I wasn't a little weirded out. I knew there was someone downstairs, I'd brushed the mind earlier. It was locked up tighter than a steel drum as we approached.

The creature in the downstairs hallway had a case set open on a squat table, filled with all manner of equipment that I did not recognize. It was a goblin. The squat little man bowed to his master and then his gnarled face glared up at me with angry eyes.

"Sookie, have you met Mr. Hob?" the demon asked me.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure," I replied nervously, but inclined my head in respectful greeting all the same.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stackhouse," he growled. I smiled my crazy smile in kind.

Mintah had me enter the vault then, watching as I input my authorization code and explaining that the timer restrictive function had been disabled for the ongoing investigation. As we entered I caught myself frowning. Things were out of place again.

"Were things moved around in here?" I asked.

"No."

I crossed immediately to the nearest shelf where the gold jewelry, whose loss I'd regretted, was nestled neatly in a padded bin.

"This wasn't here," I said. "I met the woman who had brought it in that afternoon. I felt bad that we'd have to tell her we lost her items. They were definitely not here."

"What else?"

I glanced around, looking for differences. There was a silver platter on a far shelf that I knew had not been there. I pointed it out.

"And what is missing?" Mintah asked.

Well I knew what I feared most, and I'm sure he did too. I walked right over to the Herbahz lot and pulled the foam coverings back. I was half expecting it, but I still gasped when I saw the silver knife, the brazier, and the iron quill were not where I had left them, and neither was the mesh glove. The gold knife remained, and so did the ebony stake.

"Shit," I whispered.

"Quite."

I spun around. "What else?"

"Some human artifacts."

"How did they get back in?" I demanded. Because he had to know, right?

I was distracted by the large chest of silverware that I'd last seen Wilson Bellows lugging in. It had gone on the nearest shelf, because it was so heavy, but there it was on the far side of the room. I walked over to it and as I was flipping it open, I heard Mintah roar; the screeching, wrenching sound was the most stark and terrifying noise I'd ever heard come out of a living being, until a split second later when the sharp silvery hissing whipped through the air behind me and I grabbed my hand into the chest of silver and came up with the first thing I could get my fingers around and then dropped to the floor. There was a crash behind me and a ripping sound and I was very, very aware that there was now a second figure in the room, and whoever it was had attacked my boss.

The shelves rattled. They were sturdy and they didn't fall, but items teetered down from them. I tried to crawl for the corner, but something caught the edge of my boot. I glanced back in time to see a cowled figure sprawled at my feet and was scrambling for purchase, and I was the nearest thing. The pale face was covered and the eyes were squeezed shut; then Mintah was on him dragging him back. I kicked free of my boot.

I heard a baying as one of them took a serious injury and another crash, followed by the cacophonous clanging of many metal things clattering to the ground. Then again, behind me, and I kicked my legs wildly trying to push my body out of the way because there were heavy things there, and I'd be just as hurt if they fell on me as I would if I were caught in the scuffle. I screamed for Hob at one point, which was useless as the damned vault is sound proof, and even if it wasn't, I highly doubted that my ineffectual yelling would be any good on the utter clamor of the fight.

There was a horrible baying; a keening, yowl of agony and a ripping, a tearing sound... Please God, let it not be Mintah.

I prayed for the life of the demon. _Really awful Christian. _

I forced myself to turn and when I did it was to see my boss finishing the job of severing the arm of his attacker, his face fiercely triumphant, one foot on the man's back for leverage as he wrenched up... and then stumbled forward. The figure beneath him vanishing the second the _arm_ came free. He seethed and hurled the limb away from him and screamed.

I shut my eyes.

"Sookie, were you injured?" His voice was cool and raspy again as he stood above me.

I thrust up my...soup spoon...to ward off the encroaching evil. Mintah took it from my hand and examined it carefully, placing it down on the nearest shelf. He took my arm and pulled me to my feet with no undue force. Demons, it seemed, are not affected by the same bloodlust as vampires in the wake of violence. He appeared to be operating with a clear head. That was very good.

"Who was that?" I whispered.

"I do not know, but I will find out. You need to let us out of the vault now."

I tried very hard not to look at the severed arm as Mintah led me past it, but I did not succeed. In fact, as soon as I looked, I became quite engrossed. Unfortunately I have seen severed limbs before. Not in person, but sometimes in films, and once very accidentally on the internet. I was right on the cusp of my own little little breakdown when my attention caught. The arm, I realized, was thin. The hand, and I am forever thankful that the hand was not the gory end, was small. It was wearing the iron mail glove.

"That's... from the Herbahz lot. That glove that...it...was wearing. It's part of our stock."

"I will have Mr. Hob recover it," Mintah assured me. "Please open the vault now."

I did so. I was led upstairs, much more grateful this time, to have an arm to clasp. To have arms, in point of fact. Mintah brought me to Brenda's office, where the clerk at her desk looked up unperturbed before returning to his work.

"I will return in a moment," Mintah told me, and I nodded.

I heard him sending Brenda home out in the hallway, and asking Ghellert to ensure she arrived safely. Whatever her connections, Brenda is human. She would be spared from the details of what had just happened downstairs. A few minutes later Mintah returned and dismissed his clerk, before taking a seat behind the desk.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" I asked.

"No. Why did you go for the silver?"

"It had been moved there," I said dully. "It had been stored on a different shelf, and then it was among what was missing..."

"It is lucky you were out of the way."

"How did he escape?"

"It seemed very like teleportation to me."

"Not fairy," I clarified.

"No, none of your great grandfather's people."

I had just enough sense in my head left to be gobsmacked.

"It is my business to know," said the demon, indifferently, answering the question I had not asked. "It's nothing to me. You are a valuable asset to this enterprise. Your secret is safe."

I knew my telepathy was safe with him, since he can obviously do something along those lines himself, but turning me over to the water fae...

"I am sure my own family tree would be of interest to many as well. It is a decent ruse you have crafted here. You are assumed to be some sort of step child or by-blow of a relation of Cataliades, embraced out of affection - all things no one likes to talk about. I have no objection to this continuing."

"That's very generous of you sir."

"Yes," he said, agreeing to his own magnanimity with a nod.

"What did you actually expect me to find in there?"

"It _was_ my opinion that the items that were accounted as stolen were not actually removed, but rather changed to look like the items which were actually stolen. You saw the vault as it was left by the thieves. You noticed the differences. I will wish you to go through again, tomorrow."

"What's the point of that? Of making things look different?"

"To obscure what was actually taken for more time, to put us off the search, perhaps," he mused.

"But why bother breaking in, if he could just pop in?"

"A question that will be answered."

"My boot is down there," I said dully.

"Mr. Hob will bring it up. Tell me about Julian Herbahz."

I did. I recounted the entire day we'd met, how I'd arrived for the meeting, gone downstairs with Kenneth, started running tests, and how Julian didn't join us until later, with Brenda. I told about how the glove made the complete set, and it had come in a day later. Mintah listened with interest and asked a number of pointed questions which I didn't have the answers to.

He wished to know why Julian didn't want to deal with vampires on objects that would have been so greatly valuable to them, and that one I was able to explain, as it had been explained to me. But then Mintah started asking about the relationship of Kenneth and Julian, and the only things I could offer about Kenneth were the little bits he'd shared. Much like I'm presumed to be, he's just a relative for whom there is affection. Julian had seemed unhappy with Kenneth for failing to pack up the glove, but hadn't gone so far as to chastise him in front of us really. That alone spoke to the familial bond.

Mintah left me to go and attend to things downstairs. I sat there for probably twenty minutes more, feeling subdued. I was waiting for the shock of what I'd seen to kick in, but it never did. I could feel it inside me, but rather than burbling up and out in hysterics, it sat in my stomach like a stone.

The demon returned later and told me I was dismissed for the night. The shifter, Rudas, walked me back to my car. Ghellert had returned at some point and had taken up a station downstairs with the goblin and the vault.

I'd half expected the damn vampire to be waiting for me at home, but that's not who I found when I got there. Mr. Cataliades was sitting on the bench on my porch, indifferent to the chilly night. I smiled and gathered my things together and went to meet him. He was dressed in one of his usual fine suits and carried his usual rich leather case. He looked rather like a high caliber of door to door salesman as he stood up to greet me.

"Mr. Cataliades," I said warmly. "What brings you by?"

"I'm here in Shreveport on the Queen's business," he explained in his sonorous lilt. "Routine," he clarified, letting me know there was no reason to worry about that. "I thought I'd better see how things resolved here, before I go meet with the Sheriff myself."

"Of course," I said. "I'm so glad you stopped by, please come in."

He followed me in to the kitchen, and rather than put my leftovers away, I went ahead and fixed us each a plate. We sat down at the table and I shared with him the details of Pam's rescue and recovery, noting that the Were Tray Dawson had seen me, and been employed by the Sheriff to guard me before Pam was restored.

"And, that's the other thing really," I began. I set my fork down, the better to fidget in my lap. He was probably not going to be happy about this.

"I got sick this week." I had his Mr. C's attention immediately.

"Thursday night I fainted out front on the porch, and Mr. Dawson got me inside the house. I'd been feeling run down and weary after missing all that sleep, but I think it was something more than that."

"You seem fine now," he observed. "Perhaps more than fine."

"Well. Yes. Last night the Sheriff's child came by to present herself and thank me formally or something, and I invited her in for a blood, because I was eating dinner. Anyway, I fainted _again_ and dropped my plate and fell in the broken china and so she called Eric. By the time I woke up he had, uh, tended to all my wounds."

"I see."

"Not quite. He tended to all my wounds but I was still very sore from the cuts, very run down, even though I slept good and long on Friday and napped all day yesterday. I was achy all over... and I'd gotten a cut earlier in the week and it hadn't healed, and you know all this is out of the norm, even after a couple of late nights."

"Yes, I know," he said, and his tone suggested I should cut to the chase.

"Heofferedmehisbloodtohealme andItookit andnowIfeelgreat."

He was used to talking to Diantha. I wouldn't have to repeat that.

"I see," he said, setting down his own fork now.

I'm a grown woman, but in the face of his scrutinizing expression I felt exactly like a child confessing to having been the one to break the lamp. It wasn't the cat. It was me.

"And you were not coerced," he clarified.

"I wasn't. I won't say he didn't hype the benefits, but he was honest about his part in it too." After I pressed him, anyway. "I made the decision with a clear head."

"Have you contacted your great grandfather?"

"I left a message on Thursday evening right after I fainted the first time. I was hoping to hear from him by now, even hoping he would show up at Gran's today. I even went out by the portal, and nothing. Well, not nothing. It shimmered and I got scared and ran away. But no Niall."

"He must be delayed," Mr. Cataliades concluded.

Neither of us really have any idea what _exactly_ is going on in Faery at any point in time. I understood that this was Mr. Cataliades' way of saying he was sure there was a very good reason why I hadn't heard from Niall, even if neither of us had any clue as to what that reason might be. It was intended to be comforting.

"Do you think he'll be angry?" I asked, still all timidity.

"With the vampire, perhaps. What does he know about you, now that he has presumably tasted your blood?"

"Only that I'm different. He demanded to know what I was. I didn't tell him. He's supposed to show up sometime tonight to discuss it all, and he wants to test if I can be influenced via his blood now."

"I suppose that will be useful to know, if nothing else."

"And it'll wear off in a few weeks so," I began, but he was giving me a questioning look in response.

"I can't claim to have first-hand knowledge of tying myself to a vampire, but I believe the effects are somewhat longer lasting than that."

"How much longer?" I asked.

His eyes flicked in the direction of my front door, preceding the knock that immediately followed. Vampire brain.

"Perhaps you'll ask him," Mr. Cataliades said.

I frowned as I stood. "I still need to talk to you about Splendide and Mintah and also I think I met Gladiola's new beau this week. Should I send him away?" I had no doubt about who was knocking.

Mr. Cataliades simply picked up his cutlery and began eating once again. Plainly he is not going to advise me any further on dealing with Eric. I sighed, and went to answer the door.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the Eric-free chapter, everyone. I won't do that often. That's him at the door though. See you Friday!


	9. A Vampire and a Guinea Fall

A/N: Just in case you did not know, the term "raptor" can be used interchangeably with "bird of prey." It is really hard to decide which sounds cooler.

The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. I'm lucky enough to have FiniteAnarchy as a beta for this story. Thank you both.

* * *

Chapter 9 - A Vampire and a Guinea Fall With Equal Velocity in a Vacuum

"You have company," the vampire stated.

"Yes. Mr. Cataliades and I were having a late supper."

"That is convenient. Now I will not need to leave early to go and meet him." He stared down at me, obviously waiting to be invited in. I made a half-hearted gesture and he strode past me in to the kitchen.

As I moved to close the door behind him, I caught a faint murmur, rather like a flicker on the edge of vision. The texture of the mind was freshly familiar and I followed the susurration to where Ghellert was standing guard at some distance. Mintah's guard could equally have been sent to ensure my safety or to monitor me. It was probably a little of both and I didn't bother dwelling on it. He would certainly have interesting things to report as far as my guest list is concerned. Though the shape-shifter was unseen from my vantage point, I gave a small wave in that direction before I pushed the door shut and locked it.

I walked back to the kitchen to find Eric had seated himself at my kitchen table. I heated him up a bottle of blood before sitting back down. I glanced at the vampire quaffing synthetic red goo to my right and the demon devouring my Gran's chicken fried steak to my left and smirked as I cut myself a bite of my own meal. Isn't this cozy?

"What happened at Splendide this evening, Miss Stackhouse?"

I told them, between bites, about being summoned to work. There were certain things I would not tell Eric. Would not and could not. These were details about security, about the business' owner and his talents, his personal entourage, the things we stocked. I might have handed the vampire _me_ on a not-silver platter, but I wouldn't allow anyone else protecting me to be compromised by my error. So where I had to leave necessary gaps in speech, I _thought_ the rest of it to my sponsor, whose own poker face would hold up well in any Vegas tournament.

The strange circumstance of items being rearranged in the vault and Mintah's belief that they'd been somehow magicked to look like different things. I hadn't been able to detect the magic on them, but then again, I hadn't been looking for it, and the place was already warded. Possibly I could have missed it. I could draw no firm conclusions. Of course both Eric and Mr. Cataliades were interested in the attack on Mintah. I fell silent as I remembered the tearing sound; the sharp high sound of fabric, the wet sound of flesh, the scream, the punctuating pop as the... I shuddered.

"They fought and... Mintah defeated him," I amended softly, electing to cut out the details entirely. I set down my fork. I was finished eating.

Mr. Cataliades was watching me intently, measuring my reactions, while Eric glanced between the two of us with only an air of curiosity.

"What happened then?" the vampire asked.

"He just vanished. Well, not the arm," I frowned again as I trailed off. Then I had a great idea. "Listen, I'm going to go wash up. I know you two have business to discuss, so you can let yourselves out, or just do that here. Excuse me."

I put my plate in the sink and left the room quickly, determined to try to scrub the memory out of focus with hot water and soap. I took a deliberately long time, drying my hair and then dressing for sleep in some stretchy pants and a t-shirt. I wanted to make it clear that I had no intention of leaving the house again tonight. I couldn't spare myself a wry little grin as I looked in the mirror. I was still pretty radiant. As side-effects go, this was hardly one to complain about, but there were others to be discussed.

The men, or at least the males, were sitting in silence when I returned to them. Mr. Cataliades rose to his feet when I entered the kitchen, clearly ready to make his departure.

"Y'all finished with your vampire business then?" I asked.

"Yes. And I should return to the Queen before dawn," my sponsor agreed.

I nodded. I hadn't been expecting him to stay.

"We'll speak later in the week," he said, and after a few more gestures of goodbye, Mr. Cataliades was gone.

Not knowing where to begin with the vampire, I proceeded to tidy away the dishes, and his now empty bottle. Eric watched me the way I might watch a gerbil in a cage.

"How's Pam?" I asked over my shoulder as I dried the second plate.

"She is determined to upstage Thalia in terrorizing the humans at my club."

"Who's Thalia?" I asked.

"A very old vampire. She does not care for humans, but this seems only to incite their devotion to her."

Tscha.

"You are not amused," he observed. And then, "Your sponsor is very protective of you."

I guess they had covered more than just the Queen's business while I was out of the room.

"You knew this," I said.

"How long is your demon employer going to remain in my Area?"

"Until the investigation is concluded, I suppose." I shrugged as I turned around and took a seat across from him at the table.

"Who is in his retinue?" Eric asked.

"I'm sure you are free to visit him and find out for yourself."

"He did not present himself to me."

"He is under no obligation to do so," I replied. He wasn't. It would have been a courtesy Mintah has no reason to bother paying. Next to Mintah, Eric could take a seat right by me in the "dear child" camp. Without the dear, though.

"No," Eric agreed. It amused me a little bit to realize that this vampire was miffed at the snubbing. He must have felt it, because his eyes shot to me and narrowed. I grinned.

"Do we begin testing then?" I asked, though knowing that he'd probably begun as soon as he walked in the door.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. And when I raised an eyebrow at him, he clarified, "Physically."

"Great, really. Tingly. I'm pretty too. When does that wear off?"

"Which?"

"Either."

"The immediate _boost_ will lapse in a couple of days perhaps. Overall it is gradual."

"More gradual than a few weeks," I clarified.

"Likely, yes," he admitted. "My blood is old. And of course we do not know how you will...metabolize it."

"Perhaps I should document the process," I said. "For science," I added, seeing the look on his face. I was joking, of course.

"You are not serious," he stated after a pause.

"Are you going to do that every time I have an emotion?"

Ignoring my question he asked, "What creature attacked you in the vault?"

"I couldn't tell. Pale skin, thin arms, small hands. Strong grip."

"Female?"

"I couldn't say," I shrugged.

"What items were taken?"

"What did the Queen wish to discuss with you?"

"What?" he asked.

"What did the Queen want? How come she sent Mr. Cataliades here?"

He gave me a pointed look. "This is none of your concern."

"I know it's not, but you are expecting me to share many details that are not your concern."

"I can make you tell me," he debated. Could he?

"You may try," I suggested.

Instantly I felt the press of his glamour again. It really did sort of tickle. It was an effort to resist the urge to look away and rub at the back of my scalp. Then almost immediately it ceased to bother me. I felt relaxed. Carefree. But that was wrong. There's a vampire sitting across the table screwing with my head. That's no time to feel carefree. I fortified myself against the mental intrusion and it dissipated. I did reach up then, to smooth a hand over my hair, as if brushing away an insect. It was very like that feeling, of some phantom gnat or moth flitting around.

I could see the concentration leave his face as the press of his influence ebbed.

"I know you were trying to relax me," I offered. "I could feel it, just like I can feel when you try to glamour me, but it doesn't take hold."

He stood to his full height then and left the room. I knew he was just in the living room, and assumed he was making a phone call or something. I had the urge to go and see what he was doing in there, but I ignored it, not wanting to be rude. After a couple of minutes I realized what he was doing.

"Is that the call thing?" I asked.

"The call thing," he repeated, with obvious distaste in my choice of words.

"It was hard to tell. At first I was just wondering why you'd left and wanted to come and check, but I think that's normal curiosity? Then it persisted, and I realized, so I did."

He'd been trying as hard as he could.

Shit!

Okay that's twice now. Twice I heard him, _a vampire_! Calm down Sookie, he can feel your panic.

"I'm not angry," he said mildly. "Your natural ability to resist is extraordinary."

"Oh...good," I said weakly. He thought - I assumed he thought - that my flash of worry was related to his not being able to control me. No, silly ancient man, that would be _relief_. Anyway. I was good, for now.

"So, where does that leave us?" I asked.

"I do not think it is a good idea for you to be exposed to other vampires," he said.

"Yeah, I'll agree to that with my whole heart," I said flatly. "Oh speaking of other vampires though..."

"Yes?" he demanded.

"Did you ever find out how they actually took Pam? Why did she glamour Diane at the nail salon?"

"No."

"Oh," I said shrugging. "Just wondering. I meant to ask her when she was here last night but, you know what happened. Incidentally, could you please tell her thank you from me? For not losing control of herself when I fell and got bloodied, and, for calling for help, I guess too."

"I will tell her."

"Thanks. She seems really nice by the way. Hey, could you feel me earlier when we got attacked by the whatever it was? Were you even awake?"

"No. Either I was not awake, or I did not feel it."

"Is there a distance range? Do you think you will still be able to track me at all then?"

"I do not know. Go and see. Go hide."

"Um, where?"

"The point of the exercise is that I do not know," he explained.

"Okay, that is infuriating. You need to stop explaining things to me like I am the stupid one when _you_ misunderstand something I've said." He was about to defend talking down to me, I just knew it. I continued on. "What I _meant_ was, my house is small. I think if you were quiet, you could hear my heart beating anywhere, so it wouldn't really be like tracking me. Anyway, there's no place to really hide here."

"I see."

"Hm," I pondered. "Okay, let's do this: Give me a ten minute head start, and then I will go and drive somewhere, and you come find me. It won't be a great distance test, but it should answer the basic question."

"And if I can't find you?"

"I'll wait five minutes and drive somewhere closer, and if you don't find me there, or meet me there having honed in en route, I'll just come back here."

I told Eric to wait in the living room while I went and put sneakers on and threw a sweater over my t-shirt. So much for my erstwhile plans to be home before dark and stay in this evening. At least I'd have protection, after a fashion. I let him go outside and locked the door behind us. I thought briefly of the guard outside as I walked to my car. I wasn't sure if the vampire was aware of him or not, but I had Eric remain on the porch.

As I got to the car I called out, "So if you can't find me, meet back here in half an hour then," presuming that the shape-shifter would hear it too.

I saw Eric nod, and I drove off. I had ten minutes, and while at first I was focusing on really great "hiding" places, I decided in the end that I would settle for somewhere populated, and so nine minutes later, I was turning my car in to the Walmart parking lot again. I stopped way at the back and checked my time. Since he could fly and was not beholden to traffic, he'd have no trouble reaching me if all was working as intended. Four minutes later he appeared at my driver's side window. I'd been rigid with expectation for the first three minutes, but then I relaxed, so it startled me when I heard the tapping. He laughed. I rolled down the window.

"Do another." He was smiling. "Go farther this time."

"Alright," I agreed, "ten minutes. Don't scare the shoppers," I admonished with a grin. He looked vaguely surprised as I took off.

I went south, and pulled over at a gas station near the highway. This time, I was genuinely startled as nearly the instant I turned the car off and looked down at the clock I heard an enormous thump on the hood of the car. I let out an honest shriek as I looked up to see a magnificent dark feathered bird standing right in front of the windshield.

I heard the click click click of its massive black talons as the bird shifted its hulking body to face me. Its broad, light, downy chest puffed out slightly as it considered me. Strong thighs jutted somewhat prominently out before the body, striped with darker shades; no skinny chicken legs these, but thickly muscled bands that doubtless restrained the lethal power of its grasp. As it shifted in the light, I noted the head, neck, and back to be not pitch black but charcoal gray. I saw in profile the sharp curved beak, the color matching its nails and looking every bit as dangerously sharp. I imagined it could break right through the glass, if it had a mind to.

I shivered as the bird set its keen, intelligent eyes on me, glinting obsidian. As it did, so rose its crest, tufted feathers puffing out around its head, making it look as large as an owl's. Darker feathers spiked above its head. The silhouette was gnarled, almost as though the bird had horns, or perhaps a crown. It was majestic.

A sound I didn't hear caught the raptor's attention and its head snapped to the side again and an instant later my entire field of vision was obscured by its tremendous wingspan as it launched itself back into the air. I didn't bother to care about the scratches that had surely been left on the hood of my .._Wow_.

I leaned forward trying to see where the bird had gone. It might have been an eagle or a falcon, maybe. Or a condor? I didn't know the difference. It was just so large. I'd never seen anything like it before.

I ended up bumping my head on the glass as I jumped when Eric surprised me again, tapping away beside me.

"It's working then," I said a little dryly, along with my embarrassment.

"Yes," he agreed. "Do one more, I am getting faster."

"You're enjoying yourself," I smiled.

"I am. Now go. Drive for fifteen minutes."

"Sure thing," I nodded, and then I left again.

This time I got on the highway and headed east towards Minden. I didn't make it near that far though. I pulled off at a rest stop just past Barksdale Air Force Base. It wasn't very populated, but it was well lit. I got out of the car and the bird alit nearby.

"Hi Ghellert," I said.

It clicked its beak once and took off into the cover of the trees a few dozen meters away.

I stood with my back to the car and stayed alert, looking up and around. Eric still managed to startle me. Damned vampire speed. He was delighted.

"Some time we will play at longer distances, fifty, a hundred miles. I wish to know the limits," he said. He definitely had a new favorite game.

"Not tonight."

"No, not tonight," he agreed.

"You want a ride back to town, or will you fly?" I asked.

He accepted the ride. I expected him to be a side-seat driver, but he wasn't.

"So is there a way to contact you?" I asked as I got off the highway back in Shreveport proper once again. "Should I just call and leave a message at your club or something?"

"Sookie, are you asking for my number?" I didn't have to look over. He was leering.

"Yeah. You know, for accuracy's sake. When I write it on bathroom walls."

"In that case, no."

"Okay," I shrugged. "How about your day guy then?"

"Bobby did not give you his contact information when I sent him to you?"

"No. That's probably my fault. He demanded my information and since I assume you already have it, I refused. He probably would have exchanged if I'd been willing."

"I will give you a number to call in case contact is necessary."

"Even an email is fine."

"I do not have one of these. Pam has told me I should, but the phone messaging is bad enough."

I laughed.

"I see no reason to learn another of these technological fads if there is only going to be another "upgrade" to learn in another year's time," he defended.

He's too funny.

"I'm pretty sure email is here to stay, Sheriff. Not that hand written notes aren't appreciated, but if you ever want to save on the fancy stationery, you should look into it."

"Perhaps."

"Not that the fancy stationery isn't nice, but it kind of dates you. It's old fashioned. Also it's not very secure."

He told me he would take it under advisement and I chuckled again. That is simple code for "stop talking to me about this now," so I did, and we rode in silence the rest of the way back to my house. He followed me inside again and I retrieved my phone and handed it to him so he could input the number. I dialed it immediately and was surprised when his own phone buzzed.

"I will not be able to answer during the day, obviously," he informed me.

"I doubt I will use it, but it is good to have in an emergency."

"I would like you to consider working for me in the capacity of telepath." He said it casually, carelessly, not even looking at me as he fiddled with his own phone.

There it was. At least we were done beating around the bush. If we'd spent an enjoyable hour, that right there had marked its neat conclusion. Things were probably going to get ugly in a minute, but they could afford to, now. The crisis was over.

"No."

"I will pay you a good wage."

"I already have a job that pays me a _very_ good wage. No."

He looked around, as if to communicate that our surroundings didn't match that claim. They don't, it's true. I was raised modestly, and that's how I live. I have savings. When I didn't falter, he was forced to accept my statement as true, or at least, to abandon that tactic.

"You expressed a willingness to..."

"No. I expressed _resignation_ about the eventuality of you calling on my _services_ again in the future. I'm not working for you regularly. Helping you recover your child from abduction, that's a worthy cause, but I'm _not_ helping you interrogate criminals. I'm not helping you verify your employees. I'm not helping you police your bar."

"That choice may not be yours. You could be..." I was genuinely glad to hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Yes. You could force me, but not for very long."

"Your meaning?"

"Is it my turn to talk to you like you're stupid, Eric? Force me, and you'll leave those interested in my well-being no choice but to go to your higher authority, and you can bet that handsome ass of yours she'll be informed that you lied and kept me from her."

He raised an eyebrow, either at the threat or maybe the bit about his handsome ass. I didn't care at that point. I'd been waiting for this, and I had my words already chosen.

"The only thing you can truly _force me_ to do is choose between you and your Queen, or better yet, someone else's King or Queen. I like my life here, and I _do_ wish to keep it as it is, but if you screw me over, you must absolutely count on being screwed in return.

"I _am_ scared of what you can do to me, but you need to check your threats now because there is a point past which I won't be pushed.

"You might be able to _force me_ into becoming someone's asset, but I assure you with every fiber of my being that not only will that someone _not_ be you, but you will come out wishing you had left me be."

And that's just what _his own_ people would do to him. Losing a known telepath to another kingdom? If even _I'd_ heard about Sophie-Anne's punishments, I was certain he had. His fangs ran out, but I didn't back down.

"I had hoped you would not _force me_ to lay this out for you, and I had hoped that your gesture of healing meant that you were prepared to play nicely. If you're not going to, well, my cards are on the table, and what goes around, comes around. That is a fact."

I stuck out my chin in the face of his glare. This pendant was good for sod-all if the look in his eyes was any indication but I made myself hold steady. No weakness. I am as good as my word. Know that, Eric Northman.

He stepped closer in an instant, eyes bright and dangerous and his fist clenched in my hair as he jerked my head up and to the side, baring my neck.

"Your invitation is resc-"

His lips crashed to mine, silencing me and shocking me at once. I went rigid and his other hand came up to clench my upper arm, holding me to him. God damn every single hormone and biological instinct ruling my body. After a moment, I let myself be kissed, and a second after that, I was kissing him back. Boy could that man kiss. I was in a hot temper and it only takes the slightest nudge to shift such passion in another direction, and he nudged.

He was nudg_ing_. I felt him against my abdomen as his hand unclenched in my hair and he pressed himself into me. That was enough. I pushed him back. Rather, I pushed myself back from him, because he was fixed.

"Don't," I breathed.

He moved to follow me, but I locked my arm against his chest, halting his forward progress.

"You do not have my permission to do that again."

He didn't say anything in response to that, for which I was grateful. I hoped he was still tuned in now, because I was serious when I said, "That shouldn't have happened."

"Sookie." God damn his lust laden voice right along with my own impulses.

"I think that's enough for tonight, Eric."

I was retreating now, several paces back.

"You'll have my assistance if and when something truly merits it, but I'm not your employee and I'm not your pet. I think you should go now. If you feel compelled to check up on me again any time soon, send Pam."

He didn't move to leave. I'd had enough.

"Eric Northman, I re-"

"Do not," he held up a hand, and I did stop speaking. "I will respect your wish. Good night."

Then, finally, he was gone. And that, in a nutshell, Miss Stackhouse, is why you don't have anything to do with vampires.

"Eric Northman, I rescind your invitation into my home," I muttered darkly as I locked the door behind him.

I shut the lights, shirked my shoes and sweater and went straight to bed.

Work on Monday was hectic. Though we were still technically closed for business, all of the employees were present and accounted for, and so were Mintah, Rudas, Ghellert, and Leonard, the clerk, whose name I only found out when he was introduced to Detective Ambroselli. They can all pass for human easily. Mr. Hob was absent, naturally. She was given the conference room to work in, and she proceeded to question every single employee again. With the exceptions of Holly, Brenda, Dan, Greg, and me, everyone else was sent home by lunchtime. Dan was upstairs with Holly, Greg was out front with Rudas, and Ghellert was in the hallway outside of my lab and the vault.

Mintah had commandeered Brenda's office, so she was relegated to the break room, which she shared with the inconversable Leonard.

I was downstairs doing an item by item inventory and generally cleaning up the vault, which evidently had been sanitized the night before, but not put to rights. The human detectives had finished their work on Friday and Saturday, so they had no need to come down here, which was good.

On about my fourteenth trip back and forth from vault to lab, Ghellert informed me, "You stink of your vampire."

"Polly want a cracker?" I shot back. I was carrying something heavy.

He chuckled, but he also flexed his fingers. It was hard not to think of them as his talons.

There had been a tense conversation when I arrived that morning, Mintah having had a full report from the guard about my evening's activities. Unconcerned with my visit from Mr. Cataliades, he demanded to know what the Sheriff's interest in me was. I was forced to explain the near entirety of my dealings with him, freely confessing the abduction and recovery of Pam, to which he was indifferent. I told him of my inexplicable illness and injuries as the circumstance that required my taking his blood, which he found equally uninteresting. I explained our experimentation with the newly forged blood tie as it prompted our bizarre game of hide-and-seek, the results of which he waved me through, already bored.

The only matters of consequence to him were Eric's comments and probing about Splendide and Mintah himself. He seemed faintly amused with the idea that Eric was piqued he'd not had an audience when Mintah had come into town. He approved of my response to Eric's pressing for details, which of course had been to demand equally private information from Eric in return, evidencing the inappropriateness of such a line of inquiry. He was content to learn that I had given the vampire no insight about his entourage, even when Ghellert had followed us on our chase. I was dismissed with an order to continue to divulge nothing, which made me want to roll my eyes, but if ever there was a creature you don't turn around and quip, "Duh," to, it was Mintah.

So I nodded my agreement and was banished downstairs. Detective Ambroselli visited me once. She mostly watched me writing and measuring, asking only a few very broad questions about my work before she retreated upstairs again. She had nothing. She was still waiting on Chip Young and the results from forensics. Oddly enough, the only Splendide employee that she had uneasy feelings about was Donald Callaway. Good instincts, that woman. I approved. He hadn't been involved in the robbery though. He'd been having dinner with his wife at a restaurant when it had all gone down.

Since Mintah had also spent the morning speaking with the employees and found no reason to detain anyone, I felt safe in concluding that this had not been an inside job.

I had plenty of work to keep me busy, and it was dull work that required concentration, so I didn't have time to think about Eric and that vexing moment where once a-freakin'-gain he made me think I was about to die before going all lusty. My own reaction had just been shameful. I mean yes, he's painfully attractive, and his strength is... well, it's quite a turn-on, as is his intensity... but for goodness' sake. This had to be the effect his blood was having on me, because my rational mind knew that he was a sociopath; a thousandfold murderer and an eager manipulator and about the farthest thing from boyfriend material as...as... Jesus Christ, Sookie. Boyfriend material? Seriously? Get back to work. Why are you even thinking about him right now? Oh right, _thanks Ghellert_.

Determined to distract myself for good and all, I returned to the lab with the large silver chest. It was surprisingly not as heavy as I had expected it to me, and I was surprised right up until Ghellert gave me an inquisitive look and the fact that I'd taken vampire blood recently was thrust right to the fore again, because I shouldn't have been able to manage this without using the cart. I'll think more about it after five. Right now I have two hundred four individual pieces of silver to weigh and catalog.

This proved to be a very distracting task, and it wasn't because of the tedium, but rather because of the fact that some of the salad forks weighed a lot more than they ought to, and there were a lot more of them than the twelve there should have been. I buzzed up to Brenda's office for Mintah, but he didn't answer, so after a minute I just went upstairs.

It was late in the afternoon at this point, and Holly, Brenda, and I were the only human staff who remained. Holly was handling the many phone calls that were coming in all day since news of the robbery had broken. Brenda had contacted all of our clients the week before, so most of Holly's work load was more reporters and curiosity seekers, as well as police officers who were either trying to reach Ambroselli, or needed certain things from Brenda for the investigation.

"Hey Hol, where's Mr. Mintah?" I asked, because "Mr. Mintah" is just a foreigner from Upper Management as far as Holly is concerned.

"Still in Brenda's office I think," she said.

I went and knocked on the door and was told to enter. I found Leonard and Mintah puzzling over some lists but Leonard excused himself silently with an obsequious bow to his boss and departed. I explained about the weird extra forks.

"They look like silver, even under the microscope, but they weigh a lot more."

"Human forgeries?" Mintah asked.

"I don't think so. They're crappy forgeries if that was the goal, and why forge? The set is complete. These are just extra. They feel strange when I hold them, and it's not just the weight. Any really, who fakes silver salad forks? You could buy them piecemeal at flea markets for twenty dollars. I wondered if you could come down and take a look?"

"Mr. Hob will be joining us when Ms. Hesterman and Ms. Cleary have gone home for the evening. I trust you won't mind staying a bit late?"

"That's fine," I agreed quickly.

"No pressing plans after dark?" This wasn't teasing; he was judging me harshly.

"None, sir."

The intercom buzzed before Holly spoke abruptly. "Sookie, Greg's just come in, and he says there's a Mr. Glassport here and you're expecting him?"

I leaned over and pushed the button to talk back, making the gesture obvious, in case the reason Mintah hadn't responded earlier was because he didn't know how to work the phone.

"Is that Kenneth? I wasn't expecting him, but hold on I'll be right out." I released the button and told Mintah, "That's Mr. Herbahz's nephew."

"Let us go and see to him then," Mintah said.

I buzzed Holly again and told her to let him in, and we met him coming through the door as Dan straightened to attention at the sight of Mintah and I.

I scanned over at Holly behind the desk and found that the urgent reorganizing of message slips she was doing was in an effort to keep her hands and eyes busy so she wouldn't drool unprofessionally over the handsome strawberry-blond heading toward us with a winsome smile.

"Miss Stackhouse, lovely to see you again," he said, reaching to shake my hand. He was carrying a small box in his left.

"What can we for you Mr. Glassport?" I said warmly, shaking it.

"Oh, I'm just dropping off the glove to match the adjudicator's set we brought in last week."

I frowned.

"I'm sorry for the delay," he continued. "But we've been traveling for the last couple of days, and I hadn't had a chance to return any sooner."

I looked at Mintah, who was sizing up Kenneth Glassport with cold eyes.

"Were there two?" I asked.

"Two?" Kenneth repeated, and now he looked worried. "Were there supposed to be two? I only found the one."

It was Holly who stated the obvious. "Mr. Glassport, you told me you'd brought the glove when you were here on Thursday."

"You _did_ bring the glove when you were here on Thursday," I said.

"Mr. Glassport, we have not met," my boss said. "I am Mintah."

Kenneth gulped.

"You know my name. That is well. I know your uncle. Mr. Shelley, please take Mr. Glassport to the conference room so that we may get to the bottom of this. Ms. Cleary, please ask Ms. Hesterman to ready the security footage from Mr. Glassport's visit on Thursday afternoon."

Calm and rasping, Mintah ordered Rudas in from outside the building, and had Dan replace him out front. I was ordered to retrieve the glove from the vault, and inform Ghellert of what was happening up here. We all tended to our tasks while Mintah ducked back into the office for a moment.

I took it as a good sign that he hadn't sent Holly and Brenda home immediately. There would be questioning, but unlike with the vampires, there wouldn't have to be violence. No need, I think, when Mintah is questioning.

I spoke to the guard downstairs as I retrieved the iron mail glove, cluing him in to the fact that Rudas was now inside with a person of interest, leaving Dan and Greg outside. He nodded his thanks but otherwise remained quiet, and alert. All business. Good.

I let myself into the conference room and stood near the head of the table. Kenneth was seated at the foot, the box he had brought was placed in front of him. Rudas stood behind him. Kenneth was confused and nervous.

When Mintah rejoined us he nodded for me to sit, and so I did. As I fixed myself in Kenneth's mind I turned to the demon again and received another very slight nod.

"Mr. Glassport, tell us what you did on Thursday."

"On Thursday morning I prepared for our trip to Philadelphia, making arrangements for Mr. Herbahz's household. I took the hound to the kennel in the afternoon, and we departed in the evening."

Kenneth was an easy read, and I could see him flashing through his day. He'd packed clothes, spoken with the housekeeper, had things placed in the safe, fought with the dog, who didn't like him, had a late lunch, took a shower, dressed to travel, gone to the airport.

"Miss Stackhouse, you saw Mr. Glassport here on Thursday?"

"Yes," I answered immediately. "When we realized on Wednesday that the glove was missing from the set, Kenneth said he'd look for it and bring it by as soon as possible. Thursday morning I got in early. I told Holly over coffee that we might expect Kenneth. She was very eager to see him again."

Sorry Holly, but it's full disclosure time, and no one cares if you think this guy is cute. If anything it speaks to the innocence with which you unknowingly allowed a saboteur into the building.

"I was running tests all morning, Brenda came to get me a little after one, and we went to lunch. When we came back, Holly told me Kenneth was waiting downstairs, and he was. He had the glove. This one," I said, gesturing to the glove near me.

"I was really impressed with it, and noticed its being small. We chatted briefly, Kenneth and I, and then he left, saying we'd be in touch this week, because he and Mr. Herbahz were heading north for a few days. I followed him as he left," I said, brushing a hand across my temple to convey the meaning to Mintah.

"Sookie, see what Mr. Glassport has brought us today."

I got up and retrieved the box, opening it to discover a nearly identical glove to the one we already had, though slightly larger. I leaned in close, examining the tiny rings. Really a nearly perfect match. I pulled the glove that Kenneth had brought today on slowly. I'd had the urge ever since we got the first one, and I moved my fingers very slowly back and forth, feeling the metal on my skin, feeling the links. They pinched slightly, because it _was_ quite old, and the thing was a masterwork in and of itself but comfort hadn't been part of its function. I pulled it on carefully and then I tried the other. And this one felt different, not only the size, but the texture of the metal on my skin, and the _way_ that it fit between my fingers.

"This one is different, I want to say newer; crafted less crudely."

I flexed my fingers again, curling them into a fist as my brow creased. Instantly, with a blinding silvery shriek of air tearing across me I felt my whole body shift, and I tumbled backwards as the chair behind me vanished.

I looked up from the floor of my lab just as Ghellert burst through the door.

"You were upstairs," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed, quickly pulling off the glove and getting to my feet. I set the thing on the table and leaned over the silver chest, counting.

"Well, I think we know how they got back in, at least," I said.

* * *

A/N: The chapter title is taken from a quote by Caleb C. Colton, who speaks of Robert Boyle's famous experiment about falling objects. You might remember similar experiments demonstrated in grade school or in the footage from the moon landing.

"The soundest argument will produce no more conviction in an empty head than the most superficial declamation; a feather and a guinea fall with equal velocity in a vacuum"

Colton was making a statement about pointless nature of forming a well crafted argument against someone who's too stupid to listen anyway. I like the excerpt here for several reasons, which you can feel free to consider or dismiss. I just felt compelled to explain it, as it's not quite the same sort of idiom I've been using./geek


	10. Useful as Vampires to a Dead Bird

A/N: The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy who is first rate and fabulous. Thank you to both.

* * *

Chapter 10 - Useful as Vampires to a Dead Bird

I performed a mental check of all my faculties; a fairly typical response, I felt, to whatever the heck had just happened to my body. I'd never teleported before. It was very strange. I was satisfied to find my fingers and toes still numbering ten each. My pulse was racing a bit, and my head was buzzing, partially from the jump, and partially still from Eric's blood, I was sure. My thoughts were perfectly clear, so that was good.

Mintah stormed through the door a moment later and strode over to me clasping both of my arms and demanding to know what had just happened, if I was injured, and if I had known what would happen when I put the glove on. I had to admit to myself that it hadn't made much sense, but in the moment I just felt it was the right thing to do. I'd even stopped before obeying the impulse to be certain it was my own. I'd also been having it for days. Crap, what if I could have put the glove on the moment I got it and prevented the whole robbery? I tamped down on that immediately.

Ghellert brought me a cup of water and I sat down on my stool and collected myself. I felt fine, really, but it seemed sensible to allay any shock that might yet settle in. My mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how it had all worked.

"There's a fork missing," I said, looking to the workbench.

"There are a number of things missing." Mintah answered, but it wasn't a quip. He was serious as a heart attack.

"There are," I agreed. "But some are found. I am still working," I explained, standing up. "What should I do now? Finish here, or come back upstairs?"

"Finish your work. Come and find me when you are through. I will send you Hob when he arrives."

"I understand," I nodded docilely.

"Ghellert," Mintah said, and the guard stepped to his side. "Send for two more from the convocation. They should arrive immediately to replace the humans on duty. Have Rudas see Ms. Cleary home. The business day is complete."

Where did that leave Brenda? I suppose she had tasks to do. It was evidently not my concern. The business day might be over, but there was certainly a lot of business left to tend to here this evening, and perhaps tonight. It was just near four.

I worked, and once Mr. Hob arrived, after Holly had departed, my work was easier. For a small creature he had a great carrying capacity. Everything from the vault was brought across into the lab for inspection. I watched with amazement the first time that Mr. Hob ran a bare finger across a mahogany serving tray and it transformed into a vase. I assumed what he was doing was stripping the look change-y magic from the objects. Between the fae magic, vampire mind control, and the contents of human fashion magazines, there were already too many and varied things in my mental index referred to as "glamour." I'd have to find another name for it.

"What exactly do you do for Mintah?" I asked Mr. Hob, I hoped politely. Goblins are not known for their amiable or garrulous natures, and our conversation throughout the evening had been stilted to say the most.

It was worth trying, though. I just couldn't stand the tension and the chilly silence. Ghellert was bad enough out there lurking in the hall. He hadn't said another word since remarking on the stink of Eric about me, and that had been hours ago. None of Mintah's people seemed to say very much. I suppose they don't have to.

"I was brought to test the security of the strongroom," he snarled. I had to remind myself that this was just how he talked; angry defiance being his default as much as bubbly courteousness was mine.

"How did they get past the wards?" I asked. I knew without being told that he hadn't meant, or at least hadn't fully meant, just the physical security.

I watched as wordlessly Hob ran a finger down one of the odd forks I'd set aside, revealing a thin leaden rod inscribed with runes. Even I could feel the magic coming off it once the illusion was stripped.

"A tether," Hob said, grasping the rod and holding it up to examine it and managing to exceed his usual expression of disdain. "Created within the protection of the wards, to bypass in the future," he shrugged. "In is in."

"And we are not warded against that," I said carefully, not meaning to imply that this head of supe security had made an oversight of any kind.

"It has not been seen before. The wards keep out. Entry still had to be forced initially. Why return to the scene of the crime?"

"Why indeed?" I murmured softly.

He continued to work side by side with me for a time, stripping the illusions from various items and causing me to have to backtrack and recheck them. I never really got a handle on how he knew to recognize them. Some things were easy for me to spot, where there was a great disparity of weight or size. An urn disguised as a letter opener was one that I was able to identify on my own. There was more heft to it than there ought to have been of course, but beyond that, I could feel the space around it was somehow more dense. I knew even before Hob did his work that it would be a vase of some kind. I could tell this just by the shape of the feel of its silhouette.

It was certainly easier for me to differentiate out here in the lab than it had been inside the vault, where other protective magics were heavy in the atmosphere. Perhaps I could have improved my ability to detect the alterity, but it was not really the appropriate moment for learning or experimenting.

"What is this called? The illusions?"

Hob shrugged again with a little grunt. "Illusion is as good a word as any. Glamour, transfiguration. The demons would say the things have been transmogrified, but this word is used only because it feels more familiar on their tongues. The meaning is all the same."

"You can't tell the origin then?" I prompted.

"Not human."

I nodded my agreement.

Human magic is not this subtle or this refined. It's no insult to humans to say that. For humans to be able to do magic at all is a really amazing feat, considering they are not magical creatures inherently. It's a lot like airplanes. I've been to an air show (at a distance anyway, I couldn't sit in the stands) and seen the amazing tricks and stunts that pilots can do. Even beyond loop-de-loops and crazy aerobatics, the mere capacity for humans to travel at such speed, height, or distance is mind-bogglingly impressive when you stop to think of it. Yet humans in airplanes have got nothing on birds.

Witches can wield great power, as evidenced by Jack Mason's coven, but they don't hold a candle to beings that are truly magical; their work is pale imitation. It's the reason why all this warding and protection really doesn't seem like overkill. The possibilities are limited only to the imagination, really.

On the surface that might sound terrifying, but it isn't. Supernatural creatures do not think like humans. They adhere pretty strictly to their own logics and rationales. Imagination is not a strong point in supes. I won't say for a moment that they're not clever and smart, and downright devious at times.

There's a wonderful human proverb, "Necessity is the mother of invention."

Supernatural attributes and strengths are sort of anathema to free thought. Why invent the wheel when you can just fly, right? Humans have always feared the monsters, for a lot of good reasons, but one thing I've found very comforting is the fact that the monsters can be kind of dumb at times. They're blind to things which are obvious to humans because the thoughts just wouldn't occur to them. It's not a total sense of security, but it helps me sleep at night, at least.

I continued with work until it was all complete, feeling the creeping dread of my foregone conclusion. When every single item in the vault had been evaluated, I could say with unfortunate confidence that everything supernatural in origin was missing. Even the vampire pieces I'd been so relieved to find had been revealed as totally innocuous candlesticks. I felt that loss personally. Beyond that regret, there was dread.

The theft as it had appeared at first would have been costly to Splendide and its insurers, but ultimately none too damaging. The human objects might have been rare, but little was truly irreplaceable, whether directly or comparably. The thing that allows a business like this to even be insured is that we do not tend to deal in things where there is sentimental value attached. Our business is in appraising and selling. While there's some wiggle room, there's no such thing as punitive damages here. There would be no weeping women crying the loss of a beloved grandmother's this-or-that, demanding more than its worth in compensation for her grief. Had she been unwilling to accept its value as stated in cash, she would never have left it with us.

The supe stuff would be different. It's not like we have competition in the field, first of all. A shake in confidence puts this whole venture in to jeopardy. Even more pertinently, it's not some snooty rich lady and her pricey lawyer throwing a tantrum because her things went missing. It's a range of creatures not known for their impulse control getting _very_ angry because someone stole from them. It would be wishful thinking to say that people could die. The more realistic view was that they _would, _and we at Splendide were right in the middle of it. This needed to be sorted out immediately.

I believed that we had stopped the figurative leak. By recovering the glove and the travel pegs, which seemed to have been used like one-way tickets into the vault's interior, we had most likely stopped the entry into the vault. As for who was to blame and how they'd gotten out, that was still undetermined.

I found Mintah upstairs in Brenda's office again.

"How's Kenneth?" I asked, sinking into a chair in front of the desk.

"He is well. He will be held for safekeeping."

I found Kenneth's brain, across the hallway, still in the conference room. He was tired and a little hungry, but otherwise seemed to be in fine condition.

"Do we know what happened?"

"He has no memory of coming here on Thursday."

"It _was_ him," I insisted. "Or a remarkable facsimile. The looks, the manner, the voice, even his mind felt the same, definitely human."

"It was him," Mintah agreed.

"How does that work then? He was glamoured?"

"This is a possibility," Mintah said enigmatically, but I knew the answer had to be no. "There are other manipulations. I am curious to speak to Herbahz."

"Has he been informed that his stuff is missing?"

"I will have Brenda make those calls tomorrow morning. You and Hob together have verified everything now, correct?"

"Yes," I nodded with emphasis. "Thoroughly."

"What have you done with the glove?"

"The one Mr. Glassport brought today has been checked over and is with the rest of the inventory. Mr. Hob locked the other one along with the pegs in his strongbox."

It was a rectangular thing, about the size of a shoe box, lined with silver and iron and heavily warded. As Hob had explained, it seemed kind of like a biohazard container, but for magic stuff. In appearance it resembled one those three-toggle money boxes that the old ladies might store the change in at a church bake sale.

I stifled a yawn and looked over to realize that it was well after ten o'clock.

"I should probably get something to eat if you need me much longer tonight," I offered.

Mintah glanced over at me the way I've seen people regard pets who follow them into the kitchen expecting food. I smiled wanly in response.

"You may go for tonight. I will summon you tomorrow when you are needed."

"Don't come in the morning then?" I asked curiously.

"No. There will be work conducted in the vault overnight and tomorrow. The first order of business is to secure this location, after that, we will discover the thieves." He sounded a lot more confident than I felt about that, but I nodded.

"Let me know how I can be of help then," I said.

"Yes."

"Okay if I take some food in to Kenneth before I leave?"

"That will be fine," he said, waving me away.

I went back to the break room and grabbed one of Holly's frozen lunches from the freezer and popped it in the microwave. I also took one of my cereal bars, a bag of chips, a yogurt, and a bottle of juice. We weren't well stocked, these were just things that people brought in for themselves. I wrote a little note on the white board stating what I'd taken, and that it was me. I felt a little guilty about taking other people's food, but hopefully no one would mind too much.

Kenneth was sitting in the same spot I'd left him earlier that afternoon, and Rudas was still with him in the room standing guard near the door. I knocked so he could open the door for me, as my hands were quite full.

"Hey," I smiled weakly at Kenneth. "I brought some dinner, just what we had here I'm afraid, but hopefully it's okay."

"Thank you Miss Stackhouse. Do you know if my uncle has been informed that I am still here?"

"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "I don't think Mintah has spoken to him personally yet. Are you holding up alright?"

"Yes. I wish I could be of more assistance. I'm still not sure what is happening," he frowned.

This was an odd sort of detainment. I knew from listening to him that Kenneth was simply resigned to wait here until he was dismissed. He had not been threatened nor mistreated. After everything had been explained to him, Kenneth figured that if someone else was walking around wearing his face, or had manipulated both his mind and body in some fashion, that he was probably safest sitting right here in this secure building with a guard in the room and several more in close proximity. He was intimidated and confused, but not agitated. I couldn't decide if he was too calm, or just very rational.

"I don't think anyone is, at this point, but we'll get to the bottom of it. You'll be fine," I assured him. Not that I was completely certain of that, but I knew nothing to the contrary and there was no reason to worry the man. He could probably draw the same conclusions on his own.

With a nod to both Kenneth Glassport and his guard I excused myself. Ghellert was standing out in the hallway and he followed me silently out to my car, waiting as I got in and drove off in the direction of home. I'd thought about offering him a ride, mostly to determine if I was going to be watched over again tonight. Putting it that way sounded less dire than "guarded" and less invasive than "spied upon." I lost my nerve when I glanced back at his stern expression before departing. I suppose that's what you want in a security guard. There had been a couple of others like Ghellert and Rudas guarding the doors outside and I figured they were the two that had been sent for.

It was definitely high security at Splendide tonight. It couldn't be like that every night, it would just call too much attention to the place, both human and other. Since the robbery was no secret from anyone, it would probably be understandable to any passersby.

Once home, I changed into pajamas and made my dinner. It was late, but I needed to unwind, and apparently I was not needed early in the morning. I took my plate into the living room and ate in front of the television, switching on a program about the Vikings on the History Channel. I almost choked when Eric Northman popped up on screen, both the vampire and the requisite caption displaying his name, along with _Vampire, ca 1000 ACE_ where they normally print someone's field of expertise. He smiled benignly as he discussed navigation and seafaring. It was actually pretty interesting.

History as a field has gotten a whole lot more exciting since the Great Revelation, and the History Channel in particular has been capitalizing on this. To some extent, it was still very theatrical. Before they cut to the commercial break, they showed a clip from the next segment where Eric was talking about battle, and he flashed his fangs and winked right at the camera. I rolled my eyes. On the whole though, the network's programming had successfully recovered from its downward-spiraling obsession with aliens and doom prophecies and was back on track with mostly factual stuff.

I ended up watching the whole program. I wouldn't be surprised if they asked Eric back to do another of these. He's enjoyable to listen to and he's certainly photogenic. I could just picture women of all ages becoming inexplicably fascinated with the Viking Era all of a sudden. I chuckled to myself until the knock at the door came. I carried my plate back to the sink before answering it.

Pam was dressed in another snug corset, this one in blood red satin. It did wonders for her bust line. She had on long black gloves and a short skirt slit up the thigh with fishnet stockings.

"Headed to work?" I smirked.

She made an unnecessary adjustment to the sleeve of one of her gloves before smoothing a satin sheathed hand down her front.

"Yes. And I see you are dressed in your _jammies_," she observed, giving me a once over in kind.

"Don't be jealous now. What did you need? I assume Eric sent you."

"He did. I am to check in on you, though I note you are already well guarded here." She quirked her eyebrow and I assumed that Ghellert was indeed lurking somewhere outside.

"Come in then," I said, stepping back.

She followed me into the kitchen while I heated a bottle of blood for her. I made some cocoa for me and sat down with her.

"I don't know if he relayed the message, but thank you for... keeping your cool, and getting me help the other night."

She stared at me blankly to the point where I felt uncomfortable, so I shrugged.

"Eric tells me he has already managed to be banished from your good graces," she informed me.

I yawned, not deliberately, but as I caught myself I couldn't help but smirk at my own timing.

"Yes, well. I'm sure he can't help it, which is the problem of course."

"You'll come around."

"Is that how it usually works?" I let amusement color my tone but I think a part of me was genuinely curious.

"We are already well beyond 'usual' here, are we not? He is good to those who serve him."

"I'm thinking you might have a bit of a biased opinion there. Anyway, I have no desire to 'serve him,'" I said. I noticed her fussing with her glove again. "Who picks out that stuff anyway?"

"We get catalogs." She was glancing around my kitchen in a momentary lull. "I like your tea service," she informed, nodding to where a painted china pot, creamer, and sugar bowl it sat on the counter.

"Thanks. I've got the cups to match, but I don't serve it often. I am more of a coffee person, but it's just so pretty. You're English, right?" I asked, referring to her accent. It was an easy segue from the subject of tea. I got up then and decided to rinse my mug and my plate, continuing to chat with her over my shoulder.

"I was born in London, yes. I am an American citizen now."

"Did you have to go through the citizenship course?" I asked. I'd wondered about this a few times but had never taken the time to investigate it. The normal citizenship process, for immigrants, takes years and years. The Undead Americans (Vampire Americans, formally) had seemed to get streamlined naturalization.

"No. Those of us who were able to provide proof of residence in this country for more than seventy-five years were _grandfathered in_, as they so humorously put it." Pam sounded exactly like she had been informed something was a joke without finding a shred of humor in it herself.

"There were other allowances for those who have been here less time, and the new refugees are undergoing the normal process. It is usually quite easy though, since we all possess special skills which expedite matters, unlike your unskilled immigrants. We simply had to travel to Baton Rouge to register. They have bi-weekly night hours at the government offices there, now."

"Do you guys have to help with that? Or, I guess Eric, since he is the Sheriff?"

"He ensures that those vampires residing in his Area are doing so legally, yes."

That sounded vaguely rehearsed, but I didn't feel like probing any further at it.

"Oh, I never got a chance to tell you either, you have a lovely home. Did you decorate it yourself?"

"Yes," she said, sounding more genuinely pleased than I'd yet heard her. "Some of it is things I have had for years, and some are new acquisitions for the space. It is a hobby of mine."

"And you live there with Clancy and Longshadow?" I asked. She narrowed her heavily lined eyes at me and I hurried on. "Eric mentioned that you three shared a nest. I didn't mean to fish for information or anything; it's just that you'd never know that two men lived there also."

She seemed to relax slightly for my rushed explanation. "They do live there, but technically the house is owned by me. As such, the public spaces are mine to decorate. They are not there often anyway. The bar and their respective social lives keep either quite busy most evenings."

I snickered.

"What?" she asked.

"Their social lives, that's a pretty way of putting it," I grinned. She flashed a fangy smile in return, which made me laugh all the harder.

She finished the last swallow of her blood, pulling a face as the dregs had obviously run cold. I reached out and she handed over her bottle so I could rinse it and put it in with the recycling. My neighbors were going to have some things to say about me when they see my bin on the street. Maybe I'll hide the bottles under some soup cans before I put it out.

"Well then. I have confirmed that you are indeed well, and still uninterested in servicing Eric. I should be getting back to Fangtasia."

I stood up to walk her to the door.

"I'm afraid I will have to mention that you were watching his program though," she told me.

"What do you do, peek in the windows before you knock?" I asked.

"Yes."

"That's a little rude. Anyway, it just happened to be on, and it was interesting. And he said I could ask him questions about his life if I helped with you, but now I won't need to."

"Of course."

I gave an exasperated sigh. "Thanks for visiting Pam," I said, holding the door open for her. "It was nice to see you again."

"Goodnight Sookie."

"Goodnight," I said in kind. She stepped out on to the porch and breathed in the cool night air before zooming off in a blur and a rush of wind. I closed and locked the door after her.

The following morning I awoke feeling a lot more normal. That peppy, energetic feel that Eric's blood had given me had waned enough as I slept that the call of the kitchen for nourishment was a tangible one. I was startled to see that it was nearly eleven, and I checked my phone for messages but had none. Before putting it down again, I called Niall.

"Hello?" the voice of a fairy who was not my great grandfather answered.

"Hi. It's Sookie Stackhouse calling." Announcing myself was redundant, they would know it was me. Early on I had asked Niall how he always knew, thinking it was some mystical thing. Turns out the fairies in this world just have caller ID.

"Good day to you, Miss Stackhouse. How may I help you?"

"Um, I guess he's not available?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Well, I called a few days ago. I guess I just need to leave another message for him then."

"Go ahead," the voice prompted.

"Um, please just let him know that I hope he can visit me soon, and there's been another development that I really need to fill him in on. Still not a dire emergency, but pressing."

"I'll be sure he receives your message."

"I appreciate that. Have a good day."

"And you," the voice said, before disconnecting.

Traipsing out to the kitchen, I paused to turn up the heat in the house. The cold snap from a couple of days ago had returned again overnight, and now that I wasn't snuggled down under my covers I realized it was pretty chilly in here. The one feature this house didn't have which I'd have dearly wished for, was a fireplace. Most newer houses don't have them. It's usually warm enough that they're not needed, but on days like today, it would have been nice. Maybe I could see about getting a wood-burning stove put in. I think that is less of a project than a fire place and you still get the warmth and that pleasant smell. I decided to look into it after I'd had breakfast.

I made a couple of pieces of French toast and sliced up a pear to go with my coffee then got in the shower and dressed for the day. I was back at my kitchen table browsing a fireplace website when another knock came at the door. There were two human brains and I recognized Detective Coughlin and Officer Marks at the door.

"Good morning Miss Stackhouse," said the detective. "We tried to find you at Splendide but we were told that you'd be home. May we come in?"

"Sure, please. Come in out of the cold." I lead them down the short hall and around the corner to the kitchen. "Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I haven't been up for very long, it's still fresh."

Detective Coughlin refused, but Officer Marks was more than willing. He had friendly smiles for me as I filled my creamer up with milk for him and pushed the sugar bowl over. I let him serve himself and sat down next to Coughlin who had helped himself to a place at my table.

"Putting in a new fireplace?" he asked, gesturing to my laptop. He was mentally measuring what he presumed to be my salary range with against the cost of a home improvement project. He had no reason to suspect I couldn't afford it, despite what Eric had implied about my humble home.

"Thinking about it," I agreed. "We had one growing up. They're sure nice on days like this," I said, folding my arms around myself for emphasis.

He nodded, happy to let me continue my chatter for a short while. It would help him get a better read on me, so I indulged him.

"Is Chip Young awake yet?" I asked.

"I believe he woke up last night," Coughlin said.

"Oh that's good. Hopefully as soon as he's up to it we can find out more about who attacked him."

"Hopefully," Coughlin agreed. "So, Splendide has been closed for business since last Friday?"

I nodded. "Pretty much. Friday I worked from home, then Sunday I got called in to meet with the owner. Yesterday I was in to help move things out of the vault again. We did a strict inventory, and I was there until late last night, so they're letting me have the morning."

"What are they doing?"

"I think some of the security guys are working in the vault room? I don't really have the details on that sir, I'm sorry. I was just told I wouldn't be needed until they called me in."

There was another knock on the door and I frowned and excused myself for a moment. I gave a sigh as I realized who the caller was. I've never been so popular as I have this week, I swear. I paused at my coat rack to pull on a long wrap sweater and forced a smile on to my face as I opened the door.

"Good morning Mr. Burnham, so nice to see you again."

He was holding a package. I could see the puffs of steam billowing up from the exhaust where his car idled in front of my house, next to the patrol car.

"I can see you have company," he sneered. He was now estimating me as a low-life who gets visits from the police.

"Did you need something Mr. Burnham?" I asked brightly, and he thrust the package out to me. I took it, and without another word, he turned on his heel and jogged back to his car. I put the box under my arm as I closed the door. I set it down on the kitchen counter as I reentered the room.

"Special delivery?" Marks asked genially. It was wrapped in shiny red paper and tied with a gold ribbon.

"Delivery anyway," I murmured.

Coughlin was naturally curious about the contents, but I dared not open it in front of them, having no notion of what it might contain. Marks was making the connection between the gift and Christmas, and wondering if I was Jewish since I didn't have any holiday stuff on display. Then he wondered if he should wish me a Happy Chanukah, without being completely certain if Chanukah had started yet or not. Finally, he dismissed the entire notion because I'm blond and blue-eyed, and probably not Jewish anyway. I went ahead and took down my tin of butter cookies with Santa on top and set them out for him. It was the best I could do to ease his worried mind.

I sat back down again asking the detective, "So, what can I do for you?"

"I was hoping you could take me back through the last week or two. We're talking to everyone, but maybe if you just go back through it, something might jump out as noteworthy."

I could see then that there had been no breaks in the case now that Chip Young was awake. That didn't dissuade me from wanting to talk to him though, and I knew Mintah probably would too. At the moment, Coughlin had no more than Detective Ambroselli had yesterday; a whole lot of nothing. I did my best to oblige him, talking through my days. I found myself having to be a lying liar when I got to some of my evenings last week. The detective assumed, and I didn't bother correcting him because it really was the simplest explanation, that Eric had taken me on dates three nights in a row.

"So you said last Tuesday the vampire picked you up from work after closing hours?"

"Yes sir."

"And, did you notice anything suspicious about his behavior that evening?"

I didn't even crack a smile, and that was my gold star for the day.

"No sir, he came straight down to meet me since I wasn't done with work, and we left pretty quickly, and then we went out for a little while, stopped by his club, and then he took me home."

"And he was at Splendide again with you on Thursday evening."

"Right. We were at our friend Pam's house, and I didn't have my car and Brenda said it was urgent I come down, so he brought me straight over. I think he was just curious and there were so many people milling around outside, which is why he didn't just drop me off. I'm sorry if he was in the way."

I tried to sound contrite. The detective was clearly fishing for anything, any finger to point, any loose thread to pull. I felt bad for him, knowing that it was extremely unlikely that he'd be able to make any progress on this case. To everyone's disappointment, the power surge had conveniently shorted out the security cameras, so the best hint of the culprits was a couple of shadows moving around before the feed stopped.

"No, he wasn't in the way," Coughlin mumbled. "Tell me about the clients you saw that week, any big items come in?"

I told him the highlights; Herbahz, the lot from Biloxi, and then I told him the lowlights, the furniture, the jewelry, the real run of the mill stuff. He asked me about our security procedures again, and he wanted to know if anyone had shown any interest. I said truthfully that there'd been nothing beyond the normal inquiries that come from people that were leaving valuable items in our care. Marks had finished a second cup of coffee and devoured about a quarter of the cookie tin before Coughlin finally resigned to the fact that I had nothing for him.

His frustration was coming through loud and clear and I regretted that I had nothing to offer him. The clues we did have were all supernatural in nature, and that just wasn't a situation that the Shreveport Police Department could help with.

I said goodbye to the officers and bumped up the heat again. All the door opening had really not helped to keep the house warm. Instead of going back to browsing for fireplaces I decided to take a different but equally relaxing approach to warmth and drew myself a nice hot bath.

As the tub was filling, I went and opened my present. I'm not a paper-ripper. Gran always taught us to save the paper so it could be reused. As an adult I haven't kept to that, mainly because I don't have a wrapping paper box or anywhere to put the saved paper, but I still hate to tear it. This paper was shiny and nice. I assumed it had just been gift-wrapped at the store. I couldn't picture Eric trying to manage Scotch-Tape. He probably considered it another fad that would go out of fashion any day now. Plus, he has giant hands.

Another piece of his heavy stationery was folded inside.

For your viewing pleasure.

-E

It was a DVD box set of the Viking documentaries from the History Channel; evidently what I'd caught last night was just one in a series. He'd also autographed the box. I smirked, but it fell into a genuine smile as I set the gift down again and went back to take my bath.

I was neck deep in lavender scented bliss when my phone rang, and I gave myself a grudging pat on the back for remembering to bring it into the bathroom with me. I leaned out of the tub and grabbed for a towel first and then my phone.

The hoarse voice of Mintah informed me that the next visiting hours for Shreveport General Hospital were from three to four-fifteen this afternoon, and he asked if I would join him there to speak to Chip. I agreed readily. I found it considerate that he'd asked, rather than ordered (take note, Viking), and besides, I was eager on my own to help get to the bottom of this robbery. I asked about Kenneth and was informed that he'd been taken to a hotel to stay overnight under guard, and I was glad he wasn't still sitting in the conference room. Mintah in turn asked me about my visit from Pam and I'd explained that it was just a visit, and also filled him in on the Detective Coughlin's having nothing to go on.

"Yes. The human authorities are almost a nuisance at this point, but we must allow them to try to do their jobs," he agreed.

I didn't have all that much time to dress and get ready to go so once we hung up I cut my bath short and made to get ready, dressing warmly and wishing a winter that technically hadn't even begun yet was already over.

I left my house a little early and stopped at a book shop to pick up some magazines and a puzzle book for my coworker. I hoped he'd enjoy them a little more than the standard flowers and balloons. I arrived on Chip's floor a good half hour early, my errands and the parking having taken me less time than I'd given myself. Since visiting hours hadn't technically started, I made my way over to the nurses' station and asked if it would be okay to pop in a little early. Maybe I could chat with him a bit before Mintah arrived; a little friendliness to breakup all the business, since I knew he'd spent his morning with the police.

I was about to speak when that thought pulled me up short. Surely as a material witness to a crime, he should still be under guard? There were no officers in sight though.

"Can I help you dear?" a kind woman with dark hair and clear bright eyes had come up to my side. She was wearing maroon colored hospital scrubs. She did not look too much older than I, so the endearment came across a little strangely. I assumed she was a nurse, only because she seemed friendly.

"I'm here to see Chip Young," I said hesitantly. "Is this his floor? I checked at the main desk downstairs."

"Oh that poor man involved in the robbery. He just woke up very early this morning."

"I work with him," I explained. "And our boss is coming down at the start of visitors' hours, but I hoped I could spend a few minutes beforehand? I've brought him some things," I said, holding out the parcel in my hands.

She checked her watch and looked me over and decided that for pretty, innocuous me, with my armful of goodwill, she could make a twenty minute exception on the rules.

"Come on then," she said, offering me a conspiratorial smile and beckoning me to follow her down the hall. "It'll be nice for him to see a friend, he's got no family here."

I nodded. I had known that. I don't know Chip well at all outside of work, but I did remember he'd taken almost three weeks off last year when his brother died. Brenda had confided she'd been happy to allow that much time because that had been all the family he had.

Chip's room was down at the very end of the long hallway. I suppose that made sense from the standpoint of guarding him, but seriously, where were the police?

"Shouldn't there be an officer watching him?"

"Oh, they've been in and out all day since he woke up, the poor man," she murmured. "Excuse me, who are you?" she asked more sharply, and I looked up in confusion.

We'd reached the end of the hallway and it took me half a moment to realize that the nurse wasn't speaking to me, but rather she was glaring into the room to our left. She charged right in and I moved to follow her. There was an orderly standing over Chip's bed tinkering with some of the equipment, or maybe it was a doctor? He had one one of those little do-rags covering his hair, like a surgeon wears. He ignored the nurse until she closed in.

"I said who are you? What are you doing in here?"

The man looked up at her then and she moved in to put herself between him and her patient. The man made a final tweak and suddenly the machines went haywire. He shoved past the nurse and I scrambled back against the wall out of his way. I locked on his mind, which was my only clear impulse in the midst of the manic beeping and sudden sound of rushing air. Demon! And he felt my mental clasping at him too, because his glance darted to me as he tore past. His face was obscured but he had bright green eyes, and though I couldn't see his mouth curl up I knew that he was sneering viscously.

My eyes shot down to his hands, covered in latex and wrong. The wrong shape; gnarled. I tried to lunge for him but he pulled away from me.

"Stop him!" I heard the nurse shout.

I forced myself up and out into the hallway. He was moving too fast now. Inhumanly fast.

"Stop him!" I echoed.

* * *

A/N: My geekery in my last note brought about unfounded accusations of erudition. Since we can't have that, I'll simply say: reviews/alerts - thanks, please, good, yay.

;)


	11. Fine Vampired Friend

An Incomplete List of Marvelous People:

1. Charlaine Harris (she owns the SVM universe)

2. FiniteAnarchy (she is beta'ing this story)

* * *

Chapter 11 - Fine Vampired Friend

There was a doctor, a real one, running down the hall towards me now, and other people starting to crowd the end. The demon bolted past them toward the stairs, and I ran after him, struggling to keep a bead on his brain. I heard the door flung open, the metal clanging with force against the concrete wall, and I chased after, losing ground all the while. A door swung out in front of me on the second landing I came to and I shrieked at the sudden appearance of the police as they finally decided to show up. Two of them streaked past me, a third caught me up, held me back. I broke away from him easily, feeling Eric's blood hissing through my veins, but my head was focused two more flights down on the retreating buzz of the demon's mind and the officer got hold of me by the arms and this time he didn't bother to restrain his strength.

I felt the demon vanish out of my range, and I stopped struggling, but the solid grip on my arm remained. I looked up into the face of the police officer who was glaring down at me.

"He did something to Chip," I said helplessly, meeting only a stern and silent face in return.

I was escorted back upstairs, and I understood that I was to do nothing but stand here until someone was able to talk to me. Chip Young was dead. That was the main thought of all the medical staff, who were joined by more police officers, and very shortly after, by Mintah, arriving promptly for visiting hours.

I was led over to a chair and made to sit. At that point I realized that I was still holding copies of Sports Illustrated, Maxim, Men's Health, and Guns & Ammo. I shuffled through the periodicals, chiding myself for the impersonality of my offering. Men's mags, because he's a man, and a gun mag, because he's an armed guard. I stared down at the crossword puzzle book. I'd seen him doing them at lunch breaks a couple of times. I set the small pile aside, where for all I cared it could entertain some other hospital visitor.

Detective Ambroselli arrived on the scene and she spoke with the nurse who'd escorted me and had tried to no avail to save Chip from whatever toxin had been inserted into his inter-venous drip. She spoke with me, adamantly curious to know why I'd chosen to chase what was obviously a dangerous killer, and I just shrugged and answered truthfully that the nurse had screamed to stop him, and that's really all I could think of. I did my best to describe him, height a few inches taller than me, the light green eyes, the mask like a salon nail technician's. Hands that looked large and rough, even gloved. I answered every question knowing there was no way in... hell... that the human detectives would ever track down the demon culprit.

As the afternoon wore on, I became aware that the general but unspoken suspicion among the police was that Chip Young had been involved in the robbery, as the inside man. He had been extensively interviewed earlier in the day and had not been able to recall anything of value to the police. Why then, would he need to be killed? They strongly suspected that he had lied, and whoever he'd been working with wanted to tie up a loose end.

My suspicion, which I was able to voice to Mintah some hours later, was that he'd been done in before someone of a telepathic bent could sort through his muddled memories. Was his head trauma intended to be fatal at the start? It must have been a very small window from the time the police took off to the time I showed up, and the start of visiting hours. It still rankled that they'd left him unattended. It wasn't clear if there'd been some sort of expertly orchestrated distraction, or if they just relaxed when it became clear he didn't have the eye-witness account the police had been hoping for. I sincerely hoped for the former.

Eventually the police said I could go home. I looked to Mintah when they finally dismissed us from the hospital, and he'd ordered me home as well. He had pressing things to attend to, I could see. The nature of the attack had apparently given him some suspicions of his own. That's the sense I got, anyway; he wasn't sharing the details of his plans with me. Perhaps he wouldn't at all. I was his employee, not his confidant. The thought made me anxious; that the pieces were starting to fall into place for him, and soon he would be ready to act. I could hardly deny the relief I felt when I was not asked to play a part.

I _was_ eager to see the end of this; to get everything back on track as it had been prior to a week ago. My life, furtive and tenuous as it may be, was fairly dull in its execution. While sometimes I did wish for a little more excitement, this week was no kind of example whatsoever of what I had meant. A cure to boredom might be some field work. Maybe a date or two. Maybe a few friends I could hang out with and not have to lie to and shield myself against them the whole time. I did _not_ mean that my life could use more severed limbs, angry vampires, and other murderers. I was happy to be out of it, at least for another night.

Chip's boss from the security company had been contacted once it was realized that he had no next of kin. That was awful. Mintah had quickly volunteered to cover all the costs of his final arrangements, but it fell to the security boss to make them. The hospital had people who would help him with that, and Mintah also volunteered Brenda. I knew it wasn't Mintah's good nature that compelled him.

Though it was undoubtedly "the right thing to do," it was simply the most efficient means of quelling a potential problem. The gesture would reassure the security company and the other guards who worked for us. The potential for harm or death was something that every guard signed on for, but it remained highly unlikely and was certainly very unsettling. It was beneficial to show everyone who looked that should the worst ever come to pass, everything would be taken care of. It was small, but important, consolation. Even beyond appearances, it's just the tendency among supernatural beings to handle things "in-house" wherever possible.

There were no visitors waiting for me at home tonight, nor even a guard. I suppose Ghellert was needed more urgently elsewhere. I was on alert, but there was no one save my human neighbors to be felt in any direction. I wasn't hungry, but I forced myself to eat a little something. After cleaning up, I pulled out my own stationery box, pleased at the rare excuse to use it.

Sheriff Northman,

Thank you kindly for the gift set of DVDs. I enjoyed the program I saw on television, and look forward to watching the rest of the series.

Sincerely,

Sookie Stackhouse

I crumpled three sheets of my pretty, hummingbird-patterned paper before getting that short note written out. The first I had to discard for "Dear Eric," which I felt would set the wrong tone. On the second I'd written, "As you are aware, I enjoyed..." but I scrapped that because a thank you note should not sound snotty. On the third I began to expound on my surprise that this was his area of expertise, but threw that one away because I had dozens of questions that would most likely be answered by my watching the videos. I also decided it was best not to invite further correspondence. I was merely paying the appropriate courtesy for having received a gift. I had no doubt Eric would be in touch again at some point.

I addressed it to Eric Northman, c/o Fangtasia, and used the address from the club that I looked up online. I didn't know where else to send it, so that would have to do. It was probably okay, since he conducted all his business there. Hopefully whichever mistress of the dark took in the mail for them wouldn't raise a painted on eyebrow at the sight of the floral paper. I didn't print my return address on the envelope, just in case.

After that I decided to write out my bills, since it had turned into a miserable day anyway. I fixed everything with stamps and went back outside to my mailbox. I reached out to flip the little flag up, alerting the postman he'd have things to take away, and as I did I got a little shock of static electricity. It startled me, and I almost yelped before I realized in seconds that it hadn't come from my finger, it had come from my chest. I looked up and saw a shrouded figure closing in on me from yards away. I didn't take time to assess my surroundings before I tore off in the direction of my front porch, leaving the mailbox hanging open.

A hand scrabbled at my shirt and I whirled and thrust my palm up into the face of my attacker, feeling the crunch of cartilage under the heel of my hand and an immediate menacing hiss. I didn't wait. I used the seconds I'd bought and I ran.

I hit the first step and there was another shock, timed almost instantly with the strange hot feel of the magic barrier as I sunk through and whatever followed me was barred. I slammed the door behind me and only then did I cast out. There were two things out there, and I felt one of them circling the house. I caught my breath and tried to force the panic away.

I hurried to my bedroom and got my dagger. I felt the fuzzy brain outside coming near the window and bolted back to the kitchen where my phone sat on the counter. I picked it up and gaped at it in total loss.

Gran could not help with this, nor Jason. Cataliades, too far away. Niall, the same, and out of touch. Brenda could call someone, her sister or her friends, or...Mintah. I didn't have his direct line. I wasn't even sure if he had one. I dialed Splendide.

There was a third brain now, different from the other two, sharper, and just as malevolent. Two were circling the house now, doubtless looking for a gap in the protective magics. Thank you Niall, for insisting. Thank you for being so overprotective. The phone rang and rang.

There was no answer.

A pang of hysteria caught in my throat but I made myself keep it down. This was _the_ fear, the moment before I was captured and taken by who knows who, and who knows why. The cause of my nightmares was at my door and I had no one. No one to call. No one who could get here fast enough. I scrolled through a list of contacts that seemed incredibly short. Eric. I could call Eric. Sure, I'd told him to get the hell out and go away, not that he had any reason to concern himself in the first place. I pushed the button to dial. It rang thrice before he picked up.

"Miss Stackhouse, what a pleasure to hear from you. I trust you liked my gift?"

"There are three creatures trying to get in my house, I don't know who else to call, no one is close. Please, I need your help," I said hurriedly.

"Creatures?" It registered somewhere in the back of my thoughts that the smiling tone with which he'd answered had vanished instantly.

"Something like demon. Please help me. Please," I panted, begged, making no effort to hide genuine terror. I would have felt shame if it weren't twelfth on my list of more pressing emotions. The pendant I wore was now thrumming steadily, threatening to out-pace my own heartbeat. I heard a loud thud, like something colliding with the side of the house. The line went dead. I prayed that meant he was on his way.

I retreated to the hallway, with my back to the wall. One brain was steady by the porch, the other two kept circling. There was a loud noise from above. One of them had scaled the roof. My head swiveled back and forth down the hall. I was afraid to move. I strained to hold on to whatever semblance of calm I could find, to keep my mind collected. Phone in one hand, knife in the other, I kept calling Splendide and getting nothing.

A wrenching caterwauling pierced the night, followed by a duller snarl and I shivered both in fear and in joy in my reprieve. One buzzing brain had blinked out, replaced by a void. He'd started on the roof. The second scout was silenced just as fast.

I didn't really have to stretch my mind anymore, I could hear the muffled grunts and thuds. There was another wailing sound and a sharp thud right on my porch. I felt the demon mind twist in on itself, and flicker. I ran to the front door and flung it open when Eric's was the last mind in my range.

Two more thuds as he dropped the... I gulped. My attacker lay in pieces at his feet. The fleeting relief I'd felt evaporated as he turned to face me.

Eric's eyes glinted just as demoniacally as anything that had been outside. Rather than wearying him, the short battle seemed to have left him invigorated. I could practically feel the energy coursing from him in waves. His smile was alarming.

"Sookie, invite me in."

I stepped back from the door and he did not take his eyes off me. I held his gaze for a long moment until I watched the shift in him; felt the fuse burn out.

"I mean you no harm," he told me. He sounded calm.

"Please come in," I breathed.

He walked right past me, directly into my clean kitchen and to my refrigerator and fished out one of the last couple of bottles of blood there and put it in the microwave. I followed after him dumbly, handing over a dish towel so he could wipe his hands and face.

"Explain," he prompted, after he'd emptied half the heated bottle down his gullet in only a couple of gulps.

"The human witness to the break-in was killed today in the hospital," I began. "I saw the thing that did it. He was dressed like a doctor, but, he wasn't. I chased him, but then the police got in the way, and he was too fast anyway. I think these are Mintah's enemies."

"And where is Mintah? Pam told me last night there was an eagle guarding you. Where is he?"

"I assume he was needed elsewhere. I only went out to put some letters in the box, and there was no one, and then... the first one came up so fast, I had barely any warning. I hit him and ran... Eric, thank you for coming."

He simply stared at me, and I was grateful he didn't make some quip. I didn't feel up to laughing.

I was still shivering and I rubbed my hands up and down my arms until I realized I was doing it then went to get a heavier sweater. When I returned to the kitchen Eric had done a somewhat better job ridding himself of the blackish-red splatter of the blood.

"I will speak with your demon employer tonight," Eric informed me. "His presence in my area has caused enough trouble that I will merit an audience."

I nodded and called Splendide again. Since there was still no answer, I called Brenda. I woke her up and I could tell she was annoyed, but she gave me the contact information she had. I apologized and said goodnight and dialed the international phone number she had given me. A couple of relays later, I had Mintah.

He was not thrilled to hear from me, that was obvious, but then I wasn't thrilled to be calling him, so we were even. I gave him the short version of what had happened since we'd parted. He told me he'd arrive in a couple of hours, if the vampire wanted to wait. Otherwise, he would simply send someone to "clean up the mess."

When I relayed all this to Eric, who had clearly heard it all anyway, he did his best to clamp down on his irritation, but it still showed.

"Do you know what those things were? The pair? They seemed weaker," I asked finally. I couldn't stand the brooding silence anymore, so I broke it with plodding conversation.

"Imps, fiends, whatever you wish to call them. They are a lesser species to the demon lying in halves on your porch."

It helped a lot to think of them that way; as beasts, monsters.

I nodded dully. "Thank you," I said again, really meaning it.

"Why do you thank me? Is this not why you called for me?"

"I'm sorry I had to. I didn't know what else to do. I did not think I could fight off two, and then the third came. I thank you because I am grateful. You did not have to come."

"Perhaps I should not have."

That hurt, more than a little. I might even have cringed back as he said it. There was no venom in his tone. He had sounded only speculative, but I couldn't muster the will to get defiant and shoot back asking why he had come to my rescue then. The wards might have held until other help arrived, but it was a pretty big "maybe" in that scenario. I stayed silent, resigned to the fact that I owed the Sheriff another debt.

When I grew tired of our staring contest, I went and put my knife away and washed my face with cold water, pressing my fists against my eyes. I wanted to curl up and sleep. Instead I changed my shirt, again. I didn't bother putting on bed clothes since more company would be arriving. I kept my shields full down but nothing was near. I took my shower curtain off its rings. I found my rubber gloves under the sink and pulled them on. I had nothing else to do until Mintah arrived. I trudged toward the door but the moment I pulled it open Eric was behind me, leaning over me to push it closed.

"There are body parts on my porch, Eric." It was pretty high on the list of sentences I never thought I'd say.

"The mess is not your responsibility. Leave it for your employer. It is his fault they are here."

"It's _my_ porch, and he'll be a while yet."

"It is not safe," he said.

"Come outside with me then, if you are worried. I do have early warning, and I'll be alert to anyone coming near, now. Suppose someone were to drive by and see this mess? I'm amazed no one called the police, or the neighborhood watch."

We do have a neighborhood watch group, though it's pretty unofficial. It's mostly dads who take turns driving the circuit on weekend nights, keeping an eye out for their own kids or any unsavory characters. This is a pretty quiet area, and well suited to me. It isn't one of the more upscale neighborhoods like Pam's; it's full of people who work hard for a living and are proud of their homes, and want to keep things "nice."

"I am told most humans sleep at night. I doubt anyone overheard."

At least he listens.

"I'd feel better moving...things...out of sight from the road."

Eric narrowed his eyes at me and pushed me gently back against the wall as he angled past me.

"Stay inside," he warned.

I watched as he went out and gathered the carcass together then zipped out of sight. Moments later I heard him on the roof, and winced as I heard several soft thuds toward the back of the house as pieces fell to the ground. He was out there for all of five minutes before he returned. I shuddered as I took him in. He looked worse after his scant cleanup work than he did after the fight.

"I have left a pile for your demon to dispose of as he sees fit, but it is in the back of your yard. No one should see."

"I guess I'll take the hose to the steps in the morning," I thought aloud.

He glanced down at me with an irritated look and I quickly waved him off. "I wasn't making a suggestion. Thank you. Again."

He nodded and walked back to my kitchen. I heard the faucet turn on and then off a moment later. Then I heard him murmuring into his phone, which he hung up as I entered.

"Pam is coming here now," he informed me.

"Okay," I nodded.

Now that I was mostly calm, there was time for the awkwardness between Eric and I to settle in and take its boots off. I didn't want to apologize to him, and I didn't believe for a second that he's apologize to me; so with the usual first volley of conflict resolution unavailable, I was a little adrift. I got myself a glass of water and drank it. I thought perhaps I'd managed to leave him abashed. That he showed it, instead of getting angry, was probably the most I could hope to get.

"We need rules or something," I said. "Boundaries."

"Boundaries?"

"You can ask for my help, when you really need it, but if I say no, I need to know you will accept that and won't default to making threats or trying to force me. And I hope that you would only ask in a situation where I would say yes."

"This gives me no assurances," he considered.

"No, it doesn't," I agreed. "Just my word."

"The word of a human."

"The word of a vampire," I returned. He grinned.

"You do not wish to be troubled over petty concerns," he surmised.

"If that's how you need to think of it, yes," I shrugged.

"How do you think of it?" he asked.

"Cheating," I answered quickly. "And the worst kind of cheating. I force people to be betrayed by their own thoughts."

"They are betrayed by their own guilt," he countered. "Their own actions."

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," I recited. At his blank expression I explained, "Everyone is guilty of something."

He looked ambivalent about that and I felt compelled to keep explaining myself. I wanted him to get it.

"My _gift_," I began, and the word rankled, but it happened to fit best, "was given to me to protect myself. Even if all it gives me is a split second of foresight and the chance to move out of the way."

"It could be much more than that," he argued.

"It _is_ much more than that," I sighed. "Eric, I hear everything, do you understand this? Every fleeting thought. Every worry. Every private admission. Every awful memory. It's not just some people who have these thoughts, it is everyone. If I look for wrongdoing, I will find it, everywhere."

His speculative gaze was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Vampire," I said, after checking.

Pam arrived, bringing him a change of clothing. I showed him to the front bathroom. The thought that he was neatening up on Mintah's behalf was amusing, but I figured that either way he wouldn't want to continue sitting around flecked with demon gore. I took the opportunity to tidy up a little in the kitchen after he'd gone away. Pam sat with me for the few minutes and we chatted about nothing in particular.

Once Eric returned, I left them alone in the kitchen, retreating to the living room with a book. I could hear the quiet whisper of their conversation, but not what was being said, and I didn't bother to strain myself. It was either business, which didn't concern me, or he was filling her in on things that I already knew.

I felt Mintah's arrival along with two of his shifter guards well before he came to the door.

"He's here," I announced to my living room, knowing the vampires would hear me. When they appeared, I clarified, "Out back," with a nod in that general direction.

I set my book aside and started to get to my feet. "Should we go and meet him?"

"No," said Eric at once. "He will come inside."

Is he still concerned about my safety or are we putting on appearances now?

I answered the door when Mintah knocked and the kindly old benefactor was back as he embraced me and looked me over carefully, ensuring I was uninjured.

"I am sorry that you had a scare this evening," he told me.

"I am too," I said in response to that gaping understatement. "Thankfully Eric was able to get here quickly."

It was only then that Mintah deigned to glance at the vampires who stood just behind me in the small foyer.

"Mintah, this is the vampire Sheriff of this area, Eric Northman, and his child, Pam Ravenscroft."

"I know your name," Mintah said to Eric, with a very slight inclination of his head.

"And I know yours," Eric returned.

I was watching Pam, who went unacknowledged by the demon. I was almost certain that for a split second there was a glint of amusement in her eyes, but it did not remain.

"Should we all sit down?" I asked.

"Yes," agreed Eric. "There are matters to be addressed."

I looked to Mintah who nodded, and I led the small party back a few paces into the living room where Mintah and Eric took up the two club chairs and Pam and I sat on the couch. I offered refreshment, but Mintah declined. I made a mental note that I needed to buy more blood, if I was going to have regular vampire callers now.

"How do you account for the attack tonight on an asset in my area?" Eric demanded, opening with a display of strength.

"You are referring to Miss Stackhouse, I assume," Mintah replied blandly.

"Yes," Eric answered. "She tells me that a demon also murdered a human guard in the middle of the day in front of human witnesses."

"Are you implying that this was my doing?"

"This is your responsibility. Your failure to control your own sphere of influence has forced my involvement in demon business."

"You have no involvement here," Mintah dismissed.

"You have three corpses yet to dispose of that say differently. These creatures were sent after Sookie because of what she witnessed today. Will their master simply accept that they fail to return?"

"Mere foot soldiers," said my boss.

"Belonging to whom?"

I could only assume that Pam was right beside me in apprehension as well as body as we watched the exchange. Eric was demanding information that Mintah was not inclined to share, and I worried that this conversation could go bad very quickly.

"Are you asking because you're willing to help?" I interjected, addressing Eric.

His eyes shifted from Mintah to me. Surely he could see the opening I'd given him.

"I believe I have adequately displayed my willingness on that score tonight," he answered, before turning back to Mintah. "What was stolen from your business?"

"Everything which had been left to us by our supernatural clientèle," Mintah answered.

"To what end?" Eric asked.

"I have only suspicion."

We all waited for Mintah to elaborate, but when he didn't I got tired of waiting and decided to take a guess.

"Is it to hurt Splendide?" I asked. "In the eyes of the other supes, I mean. I've been thinking about what was taken, and how, and I figure it's not just about the objects. Surely people will be angry that their things were stolen."

"Surely," agreed Mintah.

"And it wasn't... I mean it's not just about the objects, because they're unrelated. The way they were taken, the way it looked like other things were missing. I mean, the whole situation makes it look like we're incompetent."

That one earned me a glare from Mintah, but I held out my hands in a plea for more time to explain, or rather to follow my own train of thought.

"And then, I mean, there's you."

"What do you mean?" Mintah asked.

"Well you're here," I said. "It... I mean you wouldn't still be here, maybe wouldn't have come at all, if it were just a cut and dry robbery, right?"

"I had not intended to be here for more than a cursory appraisal, no," conceded Mintah.

"So could it actually be about you?" I asked him.

"I suppose it is possible."

"My concern is in determining the immediate source of these attacks," Eric interrupted. "I must know what creature will seek retribution for the loss of these soldiers."

"I will know more when I have thoroughly examined the remains you have left. They will be removed tonight."

"Will you be providing a guard here in case another attempt is made?" Eric asked.

"One of my number will remain here, yes. He left his post only because he was needed elsewhere this evening."

"That is convenient," observed Eric.

"The guard was reluctant to leave her. It was my order that brought him away. Do not assume simply because you and yours can be betrayed by your own associates," snapped Mintah, with a pointed look towards Pam, "that this is the case for everyone. I do not surround myself with unknown elements."

Eric was staring daggers at me by the time Mintah had finished, and I felt rightfully abashed. Of course I hadn't just been gossiping when I'd had to explain about what happened to Pam, but that wouldn't stop Eric from resenting me for divulging their private business.

"Very well," said Eric stiffly. "It is in my interest that this matter be resolved as expediently as possible. In the eyes of the human authorities, unusual crimes always hint at vampire involvement, and that is attention which we do not welcome. I offer you my assistance in the resolution of this matter to that end."

"How generous of the vampire to act so selflessly," Mintah hissed sharply, before backing off. "I will accept your offer to help, however. If you will see to the guarding of this home until dawn, that will allow me time to conclude my dealings, which have been delayed by this meeting and will be further delayed by the cleanup outside. I would be willing to contact you when we are able to proceed. Tomorrow night."

"I am curious as to what could possibly detain you when the situation here seems the pressing matter."

Rather than answer him, Mintah stood.

"Miss Stackhouse, we will speak tomorrow. Ghellert will be outside when you wake."

I nodded, standing up as well, and found myself following my boss to the door to show him out. When I returned to Eric and Pam, they were staring at each other in unspoken conversation. Finally Pam stood.

"Goodnight, Sookie. I wish you a more pleasant evening."

"Thanks Pam," I said wryly. "You take care."

As she left, I followed her mind to the back of my property where it remained for a short time, joining those of the shifters who had been left by Mintah for cleanup detail. Soon enough she faded away, and my attention was left to Eric, who was staring at me.

"You follow their movements with unfocused eyes as though you're seeing through the walls," he commented.

"I didn't realize," I said, and had that same feeling that I'd had with Jason the other day. That was probably a habit I should be aware of, and try to break. I felt myself flush slightly with the realization that the people around me do watch and try to "read" me, just as I read them. Quickly, to escape my embarrassment I asked, "Will Tray Dawson be coming here again?"

"Perhaps tomorrow."

"Ah."

"We were not done with our earlier discussion," he said.

"I think we covered the important part," I hedged. Originally I had more to say to him, but at this point I just felt tired. I wanted to object to his obvious intention to stay here while I slept again, but I didn't think I could really make much of an argument tonight as far as his interest in my security went. He'd come up big, and it would just seem ungrateful to question his motivations.

"Did you have any further boundaries you wished to establish?"

"I think I've spoken my peace on all accounts. Did you have anything to add?"

"I would prefer if you did not rescind my invitation to your home again. Pam tells me that you did not rescind hers, but this is not enough. This is a practical measure, in the event that I need to enter this building should you be unable to speak an invitation, or Pam be unable to come here."

I knew that he could enter any dwelling occupied by his child. The same magic that protected humans from vampires would not protect a vampire from his maker, but once the child had vacated a premises, the maker could not reenter at will.

"Then don't give me a reason to rescind it," I told him.

"You have made yourself clear."

"Alright then," I said, unfolding the arms I'd unconsciously wrapped around myself again.

"You're staying here?" I verified.

"Until dawn. Go to rest. I will wake you before I leave so you can secure the doors."

I did as he suggested, pulling on a long sleeved t-shirt and some light cotton pants and washing up. I didn't barricade the door this time, and I didn't bother setting an alarm. Dawn wasn't all that far off at this point. I'd get in a cat nap before being woken again. I did not have much time to think before I was fast asleep.

It seems like moments later that a cool wind was tickling my ear, whispering my name.

"Sookie."

I reached up to brush the disturbance away and my fingertips fell upon a soft cheek. I turned my head slightly, pressing my face into the chilly surface, like the cold side of the pillow. I breathed in a stale, sweet smell, mixed with something else and let out a contented sigh. His grip tightened around my arm and he gently jostled me again.

"Sookie, wake."

"Mm."

I flattened my palm against the smooth plane, holding it to me as I nuzzled against it.

"Sookie, you must rise. Dawn is coming."

"Eric?" I murmured drowsily.

"Yes."

I pressed my face against his, making soft noises of protest as I caressed the line of his jaw, across his ear, his hair. It was all of five seconds before I stiffened as recognition set in, and another heartbeat before I let my hand drop abruptly to the bed. He leaned away.

He was looking down from where he stood over me as I blinked my eyes open. There was a strange expression on his face as he read what must have been alarm in mine.

"Come," he said after a moment. "Get up. I must go."

He was already across the room as I stumbled muzzily from my bed, taking a second to stretch my limbs before attempting to make them walk. I followed him down the hall to my front door.

"Your shifter guard has returned," he told me.

"Okay," I nodded.

"Sookie," he said, and I looked up at him in response. "Be safe today."

I nodded again, but he caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger stilling the movement. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead and then he was gone. I locked the door behind him and trailed back to bed, eager to be asleep again and not to lose the dreamlike quality of the last few minutes. I flipped my pillow over and snuggled against the cool side.

After I woke for the second time, I spent a busy morning on the phone with Brenda, my grandmother, and Mr. Cataliades. I'd peeked through the windows and verified that there was no trace of the fighting from last night. There were a few smudges of ichor that Eric had tracked into the house. My stomach churned as I cleaned them up, but it was worse when I got to the bathroom. He'd left his bloodied clothes behind in a heap.

I took them out to the laundry closet along with the towels he'd used, intending to set them to soak with cold water and detergent before running them through a proper wash. As I spread the t-shirt out, I realized that there were many tiny holes where the corrosive blood had eaten away at the cotton. His jeans were in the same state, and with regret I realized that so were my towels. I sighed, knowing I'd have to replace them, but feeling grateful that the varnish and ceramic of my floors and sink had prevented any real damage there. I bundled everything into a bag to be disposed of later.

Something about it bothered me, and the parcel kept drawing my eye throughout the morning. I didn't have anything else to store it in, and I hoped the bag would hold. Between that, and thoughts of Eric, I couldn't get my mind to settle down at all.

I thought we'd come to a civil understanding, and that had been reassuring. The way he'd been before he left this morning had been almost gentle. I'd been half asleep and wasn't sure if I was remembering it correctly. It was so much at odds with the rest of him; the sheriff who had no bones about forcing my compliance, the righteous torturer who punished mercilessly. I had seen his lust, which was dark and dangerous, and his cold calculation. But then I'd also seen his almost childlike enjoyment in our tracking game, and been amused by his more old-fangled ways. He wasn't a dichotomy; it was more like multiple-personality disorder.

What frustrated me most was that I couldn't decide if these were all just different sides of him. I mean surely, yes, a thousand years adds some complexity to one's character, but maybe he was just manipulating me. I was caught up short when it occurred to me how distasteful I found that idea, because it shouldn't surprise me. I should expect it. He would try on all these different hats to see which one would appeal, to make me like him. To make me want to help him.

Should I like him? I mean, he'd pretty much been the acme of female fantasy last night; having literally flown to my aid and rent my enemies in twain. That's supposed to be a major turn on, right? Except it wasn't. My blood-soaked savior had been only slightly less terrifying than the creatures who had tried to kill me. Just less-scary enough that I invited him in and fed him on synthetic blood until he finished calming down.

I'd been standing still in my living room lost in my reverie when I finally shook myself free of thoughts of Eric Northman. There were more serious things to think about today. I shivered and my stomach churned again and I sat down abruptly, feeling overcome with the weight of the current situation. Yes, there was someone watching over me, but at any moment more attackers could return. I thought of the nurse at the hospital and wondered if she too, was in need of some kind of protection. I wondered if Mintah had thought of it, and I was disappointed in myself for not thinking of it sooner.

It was well into the afternoon by the time that Mintah called me and asked me to come to Splendide. Having abandoned the illusion that I wasn't under surveillance, Ghellert came to my door and rode with me over to the building, but he stayed outside as I went in. It was all business as I took a seat in the conference room. We hadn't had a chance to go over everything that had occurred at the hospital and Mintah led me through that, going over and over what details I could remember. The retelling took far longer than the actual incident, but his line of questioning seemed purposeful and deliberate. I could see that he found reason in it, even if it wasn't clear to me.

After the hospital incident, we went over the attack at home, where I had even less to tell, but he probed all the same. He had me show him the pendant that Diantha had brought.

"It has been some time since I have seen one of these," he mused. "An interesting application," he said, returning it to me.

"What is it?"

"It is for children, for their play."

"What kind of play?" I asked as I fastened the pendant back around my neck.

"You are aware that we have a range of gifts," he said, and I nodded, understanding that the "we" he referred to was demons in general. "Our children are born with them, and begin to hone their powers at a young age. It is not like shape shifters, for example, where they change only in adolescence, or vampires, which are made mostly as adults. The children at play freely use their powers on one another. The charm alerts the child if their playmates cease to consider their sparring to be a game."

For some reason I smiled at that; not necessarily at the idea of demon children playing violent games, but just to learn something new, on a subject I'd never really given much thought.

"Do you have any children?" I asked suddenly. I knew it was a really inappropriate time for irrelevant personal questions, but I didn't really stop to think about that before it just popped out. Well, he could just give me a stern look and ignore me if I'd overstepped my bounds.

"I have no progeny, no," he answered. "I did not take a wife before departing from my home world, and mating with humans is too... unreliable."

I frowned. I knew the meaning of that. He meant the woman is likely to die, which of course is why demons and part demons are so few. Because their blood is corrosive, and presumably their other...

"Do human males ever mate with demon women?" I asked. "The only part demons I know were all born to humans."

"I do not think this would be wise for the human male," he said.

"Kenneth Glassport said that he knew Gladiola. That's Mr. Cataliades' niece," I said.

"I know this," Mintah replied.

"No, I mean, he hinted a romantic interest in her. But he... I mean from what you say, he can't really have that."

"Yes?" He was impatient, and the aside conversation had gone on too long.

"Well, I think he lied to me," I said.

He gave me a look that indicated he had no idea why this was relevant.

"What I mean is, he _could_ lie. I was listening to him. He lied with his thoughts, not just his words. That's... not impossible, and I had no reason to look further, but... if he can do that, if he knew to do that..."

"We can trust nothing he has said or done," Mintah surmised.

"Is he still... do you still have him somewhere?"

"He is still under guard."

"I'm thinking we should talk to him more, and more thoroughly," I said.

"Yes," Mintah agreed. "That would be a very good idea. And I believe we will call upon your vampire to assist with this. After all, he was so eager."

"Yes," I said vaguely, unwilling to let too many thoughts of Eric creep back in.


	12. Vampire by Vampire the Goose is Plucked

SVM is owned by the clever and talented Charlaine Harris.

This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, who is really just an amazing encourager/nudger, opinion-giver, and editor. Thank you!

I'm sorry that I missed the Tuesday update. Hopefully I am back on track here!

Also, I have started using twitter, so if you care to receive random notes from me in your feed, I'm chicpea9. Hope that's not inappropriate to mention here.

* * *

Chapter 12 - Vampire by Vampire the Goose is Plucked

Eric had given me his phone number, but only for emergencies, and so Mintah planned to send Leonard to Fangtasia to retrieve him, and possibly Pam, after dark. Meanwhile, I was privy to a little of what he'd learned the night before.

"I am sorry to say that the visit you received last night did nothing more than corroborate what I was already able to confirm in regards to the demon involvement."

I nodded. It was crystal clear by now that demons, not any other supernatural group, were behind the robbery.

"There are a number of new names, faces," Mintah continued. "I do not know to what extent you follow the politics of our world." I knew that he meant the demons' own world, and I understood that his statement was more of a question.

"Not at all, really," I admitted. "I don't really know anyone who goes between too often. Gladiola and Diantha sometimes go with their father, but they don't talk about it. Mr. Cataliades is almost always here. It's uh, still run by Lucifer, right?"

"For now," said Mintah.

I looked up sharply, half expecting him to be smirking with such a remark, but that's not something that Mintah does. I had no choice but to take it as candor.

"I don't know much," I offered.

Though I'm curious by nature, when it comes to worlds beyond this one and other dimensions, the scope just grows too large for me to take in. I have a hard enough time keeping everything straight here on regular old earth. Instead, I mentally categorize the likes of Hell along with Bhutan or Laos or Azerbaijan; faraway countries of which I know little. It's a poor analogy, but it literally helps me sleep at night. Contemplating the _so much else_ that exists could keep a person lying awake at nights indefinitely.

"There are power struggles, as anywhere else. Just as with the fae, there are those who resent contact with this world, though the reasons are not the same," he said obliquely. "I was banished to this world, are you aware of this?"

I nodded, uncertain of how he would respond to my knowing things about him that he had not told me himself.

"And yet, I live quite pleasantly."

For lack of any other response, I just continued nodding. I actually had no idea how Mintah lived, apart from assuming a grandeur that comes with many centuries' accumulation of worldly assets.

"That bothers people back home?" I guessed. Suddenly I was thinking of modern parents sending misbehaving children to their bedrooms, wherein they have a television, a gaming console, and a computer, let alone books. Not exactly a punishment of deprivation.

"It is a matter of old, infrequently recollected, but perhaps it has been brought to some attention. Any other explanation seems petty, considering the scale of this interference."

"What is the goal?" I asked.

"We will find out. There is a group at work here. This is not hard to deduce based on the evidence. We will use our friend Mr. Glassport to determine who, and why, and then we will put this matter to rights." I mentally excluded myself from the latter part of the "we."

He left me alone shortly after that and I thought only fleetingly of Kenneth Glassport once again before I realized I had a phone call to make.

"Hello Sookie," came the warm voice of Gladiola. Where her older sister was kinetic in every sense of the word, Glad seemed to take more after her uncle; in manner, if not in looks. I could hear the smile in her rich alto voice as she greeted me, and I couldn't help but return it, though she could not see me.

Gladiola and Diantha have different mothers, _obviously_. Their resemblance is minimal. Gladiola's skin is a deep chocolate brown, with pale gold hair and huge, caramel colored eyes. She reminded me of a runway model; not pretty, at all, but striking and unearthly. Her beauty was alien. She could have made a prosperous career in Milan or New York, had she been only a foot or so taller.

"Hi Glad, how've you been?" I asked.

"I have been well. I hear you have been getting up to trouble, though."

"Not by choice," I argued.

"You must be careful, Sookie. Trouble is always looking for you."

I could hardly argue that.

"I'm being as careful as I can," I averred. "Do you know what happened last night?"

She hadn't heard the details, so I gave them to her. She made all of the appropriate noises, gasping or whimpering right along with my telling, letting me know I had her rapt attention.

"I am glad that your vampire was able to get there," she finally said. "But what will you do now?"

"That actually brings me to why I'm calling in the first place," I explained, and went on to tell her about how I'd met Kenneth, and the bits I'd gotten about his connection to her, and finally, as delicately as I could put it, why it had occurred to me that it seemed unlikely. She was unselfconscious in her reply.

"I agree, that is very strange. A human man! That would not end well for him, I think." Her laughter at the absurdity of such a suggestion was ever so slightly tinged with the mad malevolence I more often got from Diantha. It was little things like this, the tepid sadism, which always brought me up short. No matter how fond I was of my two adoptive "cousins," and truly, I did love them, they simply weren't my kind.

"But you do know him then?" I asked, in a quick scramble to gloss over what had been for me, at least, an awkward moment.

"I know him, and I know the family. We have not met for perhaps two years, though. There was a birth," she recalled. "They are bad people, Sookie."

Though I was morbidly interested to know what sorts of crimes could earn such an epithet from Gladiola, I didn't want to sidetrack the conversation.

"Was he there with Herbahz?" I asked.

"Who is Herbahz? I keep hearing this name lately."

I frowned against my cell phone. "He is Kenneth's sponsor, and a new client of Splendide... he was here last week."

"Oh, that makes sense then."

"Um, does it?" I asked.

"Herbahz is a human name, for the human world. Most do not keep their true names here..."

I could see what she meant. She and her sister were the best examples. What kind of demon names his daughters "Diantha" and "Gladiola"? No kind. But these were their names, for _here_. The same was true for Mr. Cataliades of course; I knew full well that there was no demon birth certificate (or whatever the corollary to these were - scrolls written in blood on the skin of flayed animals probably) naming him "Desmond."

A lot of supernatural creatures seemed to adopt new names over time. The fairies I knew who frequented this world had abandoned their Gaelic-sounding names and surnames for modern American ones. Even "Eric" was an Anglicization of an old name. For fleeting moments I was caught up with the idea that it was actually possible for these creatures to outlive their own names. I couldn't decide if that was amazing or tragic.

"So Julian Herbahz is a taken name, not his given one. What is his true name?" I finally asked.

"Haagenti," she said, matter-of-factly. The way she pronounced it reminded me of the ice cream, like Haagen-Dazs.

"I'm not familiar," I said.

"That is just as well," Gladiola agreed. "He is a grandson of... well. Their family is important in the other world."

"Why is he here, then?"

"I do not know."

"So Herbahz or Haagenti or whatever, he's an important guy... back home... but he's new to here."

"That's correct."

"And you know Kenneth, but you're not dating him."

She laughed again.

"Right, taking that as a no. So why did he say so?"

"I couldn't tell you. When will you be questioning him?" she asked me.

"As soon as Eric Northman rises for the night and gets here, I guess."

"You are keeping the strangest company nowadays, Sookie."

"Don't I know it," I agreed, with chagrin.

"You will call Uncle and tell him everything," she warned.

"I will. As soon as we have answers."

"Try not to be too conspicuous when you speak to Kenneth."

"I think that's why we're waiting for Eric, for the glamour," I said.

"Good. Well, I have to run," she said. "You will keep in touch, yes?"

"Of course."

We said our goodbyes then and rather than seeking out Mintah, I found myself in the front parlor, looking over a shelf full of antique books in search of a volume I knew had once been there, on demonology.

Human "knowledge" of demons, at least insofar as it has been recorded in books, is a very strange mixture of fact and fiction. It's the same with fairy-lore. I've learned that there are portions of truth in almost all mythologies. Given my field of interest, I find these gray areas of the historical record, where human and supernatural influences overlap, to be incredibly interesting.

This is the sort of thing that witches study in the academic sense. Contemporary humans tend to dismiss it all as occultism; at best as the fictional musings of unscientific minds, and at worst as heresies. As curios or collectibles, occult relics are extremely desirable. Brenda keeps a couple of objects as part of Splendide's showpiece collection, just the same way that she keeps an early ormolu mantle clock, and a first edition copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. These sorts of items come and go from our inventory, when the price is right. They adorn the parlor in the meanwhile, setting the tone and drawing interest from our clients, both of which can be redirected into sales.

I found the volume I was looking for, a reprint of the Ars Goetia, as edited by Aleister Crowley. This _hilarious_ manual, and ones like it, give instruction and advisement for humans seeking to summon demons to do their bidding.

Tscha.

Nonetheless, the book _does_ contain an excerpt of the rather expansive list of Who's Who of Hell, circa 1500 CE. The anonymous authors of the early medieval grimoires from which this information was compiled must have led very interesting lives.

The nearest match I found to the name Gladiola had given me was Haage. Apparently a Grand Duke, he had, at the unknown time of writing, fifty-seven sons, seventy-three daughters, and was the commander of thirty-nine legions. Legions of other, lesser demons, I assumed. His natural shape is something resembling a minotaur, part bull and part man, but in the case of Haage, with wings. There was a crude little drawing of the hideous figure. He was promised by the book to appear human, at the demand of the "conjurer." Special skills? Look at that. Transmutation.

"Mintah?" I called, without looking up. It was rude in the extreme. I don't really know why I'd expected his response to my shouting after him. I didn't get one.

I retreated back to the office and found a slip of paper to use as a book mark. It's not like I was going to dog-ear one of the pages! After that, I sat and read a bit more. I wondered vaguely if Mintah himself was in here. I didn't think any of Mr. Cataliades' antecedents would be. I'd never had the impression that their house was of particular importance, hence their choice to reside here.

I let myself be immersed in my reading to the point that I hardly registered Eric's arrival until he was sitting down beside me on the antique French sofa that was comically small for his large frame.

"Good evening Sookie."

"Hi," I greeted, barely looking up.

"What are you reading?" he asked, throwing an arm behind me and leaning over, his head next to mine. I handed over the book, cuing him to withdraw, and he sat back with the book in his lap, leafing through with one-handed indifference.

"On the subject of summoning demons, where is your employer?" he asked, returning the volume.

I shrugged. "Retrieving Kenneth maybe."

"There were no incidents today?" he inquired.

"None," I shook my head. "I have been here for a lot of the afternoon."

"How have you been feeling in regards to your health?"

"Fine, I guess. Your blood is waning a bit. I've had a chill the past couple of days, but I think that's just the winter weather," I shrugged.

He dropped his arm from the top of the sofa to my shoulder and rubbed his hand across my upper arm, attempting to create warmth with the small amount of friction. It was a familiar gesture in the sense that I had seen it performed by and for others countless times, even while my sensitivity to touch prevented it from being done to me very often. I shivered under his cool arm, laughing a little.

"I don't think that actually works if the warm-er has a lower body temperature than the warm-ee," I chuckled.

He stayed as he was though, and I found I wasn't particularly bothered by it. It might have been odd considering the source, but the pose felt friendly. It wasn't really a day for rejecting friendliness. Perhaps we were coming to an understanding.

"Does it wane for you as well?" I asked him. "The awareness of your blood in me, or whatever it is?"

I went back to leafing through the book he'd returned to me, and so I felt the slight sway of his body beside mine as he shook his head, rather than saw it.

"It will, but for now I am so unused to it that it seems quite strong whenever I allow my attention to focus on it."

"Is it constant?" I asked, wondering if it was anything like my own ability.

"At the moment, because you are here beside me, I feel you very strongly. I know that you are pensive. I do not have to try, I simply feel this, and I know that it is from you."

"Are you able to block it out?"

"Yes, but I will not do this. It is useful."

"What about from a distance?"

"I cannot explain. As an echo that I can follow to its source, perhaps. Tell me what you and Mintah have learned today," he said, ending the line of questioning. I obliged him though, and explained our suspicions about the source of the attacks and the very broad speculations as to why.

Mintah did return not long later with Kenneth Glassport, looking considerably less well-cared for than he had when last I'd seen him. His arms were bound behind him and his eyes were bloodshot with faint shadows underneath, as though he'd been denied sleep. He was still handsome, even haggard as he was. His eyes shot to Eric and I with alarm as he was pushed past us to stagger down the hallway. I got a steady stream of apprehension off him, but so far, he was still, in his conscious mind at least, unburdened by any betraying thoughts.

With a mild look in at our cozy scene, Mintah flicked his wrist, beckoning us to join them down to the conference room.

Not bothering to wait for instruction, I sat down beside Kenneth, back at the foot of the table. He glanced at me only cursorily, wondering if I was in trouble with Mintah and this vampire too. Rudas stood behind him near the wall, while Ghellert stood at the door. Eric was standing behind me, and to my right, sort of between Kenneth and I, and Mintah paced for a moment before finally settling on Kenneth's opposite side.

There was a lot of tension in the room. It radiated from the two shapeshifters, both on high alert, and though I couldn't sense it directly, I could see in Eric's posture that he felt it too. Time for business. My newfound chum had remained in the parlor; it was the ancient vampire who'd joined us in the conference room. At Mintah's gesture, Eric seized Kenneth by the scruff of the neck and wrenched his head up, capturing his gaze before Kenneth had a chance to avert his eyes.

Only then were Kenneth's hands unbound and spread out on the table. Mintah and I took either one.

"Who is your master?" Eric demanded.

I sighed at the crinkling static of Kenneth's mind. "Humans don't have masters, Eric."

"Who is your employer?" he rephrased, stiffly.

"My great uncle, Julian Herbahz."

"Ask his true name," I prompted. Kenneth didn't know. That was wrong.

"Ask how he's lying to us," I frowned. Kenneth didn't think he was lying.

I looked at Mintah. "Gladiola said it's someone called Haagenti."

Mintah nodded.

"You knew this?" I asked, letting both my surprise and then my irritation show.

"The creatures from your home bore the marks of loyalty to this family. I did not know which member had sent them," Mintah dismissed.

"Cards on the table, okay?" I demanded, with a brazen glare at my boss. "Who is Haagenti, and what is he to you?"

When Mintah did not answer I felt my frustration swell. Eric did too, and his hand came to rest on my shoulder. It was probably intended to be calming, but totally was not. It felt condescending. I tried to flick it away, but of course that failed. Evidently it was the vampire's turn to be diplomatic, or at least, his version of it.

"We are here to help you, demon. I do not see how you expect us to do this if you are not forthcoming about what you already know. If you prefer to keep things to yourself, I will take Sookie and leave."

Mintah and Eric had themselves a staring contest, which Mintah evidently lost. I felt an unreasonable stab of pride at that, and the twitch of Eric's fingers on my shoulder alerted me to the fact that he felt it too. That could get really annoying. I tamped down on the feeling immediately and waited for Mintah to speak.

"Haage is only a Duke, but his power and influence rival that of the Princes, and even some of the Kings. My source tells me that he hopes to grant our Lord a boon by returning me to face justice. Our Lord has little personal interest in my apprehension. This I have heard _directly._"

Mintah emphasized the last word with a pointed glance between Eric and I.

"You have demanded to know what matters have held my attention away from urgent matters here," he offered.

Well alright. I suppose congress with Lucifer himself was probably more pressing than demon-parts cleanup.

I nodded for Mintah to continue.

"As I said, each world has its politics, and should I be presented in capture, the usual conventions will take their course. Condemnation for me, and mine, and reward for those who have apprehended me."

"So the price on your head is promotion in the ranks," I said.

"There is no fixed price, there will only be the pressure to present a large boon, and perhaps the fear of rebellion if this is not met. As I have said - Haage's power rivals that of kings. What he is not given, he may well eventually take."

"Then Sookie was correct," Eric interrupted. "And this robbery is intended to be a trap to bring you here."

"It is that and more, I think, but to verify this, we need Mr. Glassport's compliance."

"But shouldn't you leave, immediately?" I said worriedly.

"I will not," said Mintah stiffly.

Beside us, Kenneth groaned. I clasped his hand tightly and realized that somehow he was fighting Eric's glamour. I said as much, but when Eric moved to reassert his influence over the man, I stayed him.

"No, wait, let it..." I mumbled, trying to focus on Kenneth's mind.

It wasn't unheard of for a person to break out of the glamour on their own; any serious stress would do it, if the vampire was not actively holding them. That's just something that's true of hypnosis in general. The conscious mind is what is suppressed, but the subconscious stays active. I'd seen evidence though that Eric's glamour was very strong. He'd held Jack and Daphne Mason both, seemingly indefinitely, and they'd been seriously panicking, either one. So whatever we'd just been discussing had evidently been more stressful to Kenneth Glassport than the broken jaw and threat of ugly death to Jack Mason, or the fear of loss of a lover to whom Daphne had an obsessive devotion.

"What do you see?" Eric asked me.

What I actually saw in his head was something like smoke clearing. There was Julian Herbahz talking to Kenneth in the hazy memory, and he seemed to be telling him an abridged version of his own life's story.

"Kenneth, how do you know Gladiola?" I asked him.

In his head, Julian was telling Kenneth about me and about Brenda. He was given very brief descriptions about each of our families - for me that was Mr. Cataliades and his nieces. He was being briefed to meet us for the first time.

"_Your name is Kenneth. You will be charming and knowledgeable, beyond suspicion_," I heard Herbahz tell Kenneth, in his memory. "_You will be humble and chagrined when you have forgotten the glove. You will be observant and curious. Smile at the women..._"

"I'm not entirely sure what I'm seeing," I frowned uncertainly. "He is remembering Herbahz telling him things that he already knows, like he is being programmed with certain responses."

I had the wild impulse to pinch Kenneth, just to make sure he wasn't an android robot or something. It was ludicrous, since I was plainly reading his human brain, but I did it anyway, reaching over and giving him a hard pinch, right on the muscle of his forearm. He lurched forward suddenly, trying to buck out of his chair, and his mind changed rapidly again.

Now the haze was totally clear and unlike before, there was no air of weariness about him. No benign regret that he could not be of more use to our investigation. Kenneth Glassport was mad as a wet cat.

Before I was fully aware of what was happening, Eric had scooped me up out of the chair and set me on my feet behind him as Rudas and Ghellert rushed forward to better restrain our prisoner, now gnashing his teeth almost like an animal.

I heard a slam and I peered around Eric like a child around a tree trunk and saw Kenneth's head forced against the table while Rudas held his arms behind his back. Ghellert then vanished, only to return a moment later with a role of duct tape, once again proving it to be the hostage-taker's best friend. Kenneth was cursing and struggling as they bound him, but once he was fixed to the chair, arms pinned to his sides, Eric stepped away from me again and brought the man back under his glamour, effectively ending the scuffle.

I looked around at the two guards, Mintah, and Eric in turn, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"It would seem that our guest has decided to show us his true colors at last," my employer said. "That is well. Ghellert, check outside and then return to the door. Rudas, back. Miss Stackhouse, are you well?"

"I'm just fine," I said, surprised to hear that my voice was wavering.

Ghellert elected to pass by my side of the table as he followed his order, stopping to give me the once over before repositioning my chair from where Eric had knocked it aside in his haste to shift me away. He stood over it like a maître d' waiting for me to resume my seat. As he left, I felt Eric's hand come to my shoulder once again.

"There is entirely too much happening right now," I mumbled to myself. I rubbed wearily at my eyes, calm now from the momentary shock.

"Eric, ask him how he knows Gladiola please and when did he last see her," I said.

"She is the daughter of the demon Nargal. We last met at the birth of the half-demon son of Glasya Labolas, two years ago."

"Why did you tell Sookie differently when you met?" Eric asked, deciding to take over the questioning himself.

"I was instructed to ingratiate myself to the employees of Splendide."

"How did you manage to lie?"

"My memory was altered to know nothing different. It is not a lie if I was telling my only truth."

"How did you know to do that?"

"We prepared for all eventualities. We know that Miss Stackhouse is a byblow of Cataliades. We do not know her gifts, but we prepared. I knew no ill intent. I knew only what I was told."

"Who is your master?" Eric asked again.

"My great uncle, the demon Haagenti, known as Julian Herbahz, son of the demon Haageros, son of the demon Haage, Grand Duke of the Abyssal Plain."

"What was your purpose in coming to Splendide?"

"First to scout security and meet the employees. To learn and beguile. To lay the bait, the vampire artifacts."

Eff.

"Later," I muttered to Eric.

"Yes," he agreed, before continuing to Kenneth. "Why did you return?"

"First to deliver the anchor of the portal spell to the vault. Then to create confusion." His voice was flat, inflectionless.

"What was the purpose of the robbery?" demanded Mintah. Kenneth apparently did not actually need to hear every question from Eric.

"We broke the vault to bring you here, and to sever you from your allies in this world."

"And what is your plan, now that I am here?" Mintah demanded.

"I was to submit to questioning and be found beyond reproach."

"What is Haagenti's plan?" snapped Mintah.

Kenneth Glassport didn't know the answer to that.

He was questioned for another solid hour until I was certain we had every bit of truth from him. I stayed to help with the questions, feeling where the phrasing was the block, rather than the line of questioning.

After running through the how's and why's, Mintah combed through Kenneth's mind himself, ordering Eric at intervals to lift the glamour. At some point in time, Mintah had decided to dispense with the illusion that I was the only person in the room doing something like mind-reading.

All in all, from the point of view of mystery-solving, it was an extremely productive day. We weren't actually close to solving the _problem_, but, at least we knew what it was and why we had it.

I realized Mintah was wrapping up, but he'd failed to ask a really important question so I went ahead and chimed in.

"Um. Where is Haagenti now?" I asked. The static of unknowingness.

"How will you return to Haagenti when you leave here?" I tried.

"I have a watch. I will go when the time is right."

Quick as a wink Eric had bent him forward and liberated him of a slim iron pocketwatch on a thin chain, as well as a leather strapped wrist watch. Either was yanked unceremoniously from his person and tossed to the table. I picked up the wristwatch first, it was an expensive one. I could tell because the "u" was written as a "v." I set it down and picked up the pocketwatch, looking it over.

"What's this for?" I asked, picking it up.

Eric leaned over my shoulder to take a look at the watch, and I clicked it open.

Kenneth Glassport started to speak, but I never heard him.

The blinding silvery wind whipped around me once more.

I shielded my eyes from the icy feel of the air, and went once again sprawling to the cold ground.

Well, shit.

.

.

.

I was afraid to open my eyes for several seconds. I strained to hear anything around me but there was only open air. Cool air. Quite chilly air. And more wind, but just regular wind. I was outside. There was a large house a short distance away. Nice house. Antebellum house. I was in a yard. So I was somewhere in the South, in a backyard. I scrambled to my feet, staring around at the ground. I let my shields fall away and I reached.

There were demons inside the house. Six, no, eight. There were two out front. I took another quick inventory, not of body parts this time, but of assets. Keys, wallet, cell phone - sitting in my damned purse in Brenda's office at Splendide. I had a gum wrapper and a sales receipt that felt like it had been through the wash a couple of times. Okay. I have a pocketwatch. I held it up to my ear. It was not even ticking. I closed it and opened it again, just as I had a moment ago. Nothing happened. I have... an under wire bra. Maybe a little too soon to resort to destroying that for survival; besides, I may need to run at some point, so that can stay put. I have a silver necklace and the ill-intent pendant. That was really good, because I'd have warning. I didn't know what I would do with that warning, but I'd have it.

I was backing up through the trees. This wasn't just perimeter landscaping, these were woods. Okay, that's good, woods mean cover. I stumbled over something. Big rock. I picked it up. Okay, semblance of a weapon, a bludgeon or a one-time use projectile. That is much better than having no rock at all. I hefted it in my hand until I found the most comfortable grip for my fingers to curl around it. I walked into the woods, away from the house.

I pushed the stupid watch into my own pocket as I crept along. I didn't know what I was thinking snatching it up like that. Strike that. I wasn't thinking_ at all_.

I'm not usually so careless! I hadn't taken time to even try to sense magic on the watch before I grabbed it up. I mean logically, if he had a means of escape in his pocket the whole time, why didn't he use it sooner?

Why had he come there in the first place, Sookie? It was a deliberate ruse. We'd been meant to believe he was harmless. Well, that great deception had certainly worked, I thought bitterly.

I promised myself then and there to be a lot more cautious about any objects I encountered in the future. I could beat myself up about this all night, but that sure wasn't going to get me out of here. I had bigger concerns at the moment.

Okay.

Eric can track me if he is close, so if I am still close, Eric will find me no problem. I walked for a good five minutes, holding myself very stiffly, willing my muscles to tense against the cold. Eric didn't drop from the sky to my rescue. So I am probably not still within the Shreveport city limits. Or, maybe I am, and they are marshaling their forces. Think think think. Okay, realistically speaking, I can't be too far away, because, when they first came to Splendide, it was early in the morning, and, when Kenneth came to Splendide alone, it was after doing a bunch of chores for his boss, not after driving for hours and hours. Except they were both filthy but really careful liars and nothing they had done could be trusted. Damn it. Back to "some woods, somewhere in the South."

I was moving steadily farther away from the house and there were no other sentient minds moving closer to me. That was good. I'll just keep walking, and everything will be fine because...

The air grew impossibly dense around me, and suddenly I could move no further forward. I could see ahead of me fine. I breathed in, and smelled old batteries. Corroding metal. I felt sick to my stomach. I swallowed against the non-existent bile in my throat and tried to push through the barrier, but I couldn't. I tried my trick of angling my body toward and letting gravity do the work, but this wasn't a stay-away, and these weren't human wards. The feeling of illness roiled in me as I tried to push forward and I was fully ready to let myself vomit if that's what it took to make progress but it didn't work no matter what. My body worked its way back a few paces of its own volition, and I found I was panting. I squatted down and scrabbled together a handful of dirt and twigs and threw them. They went through unopposed.

If this works two ways, then anyone coming to rescue me won't be able to get in.

If it doesn't, anyone coming to rescue me won't be able to get out.

Maybe it only works on humans?

I began to walk again. Trudge, really. I forced myself to stay close to what I assumed was the edge of the property, or at least the edge of the wards. How long had it been at this point since I had come here? Thirty minutes maybe? A bit longer?

It was terribly cold. My skin was gooseprickled, but I didn't actually start shivering until I heard the howl. It was not a wolf. There was very little moon to bay at tonight. Anyway, it didn't sound like a wolf. It didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. I so, so wanted it to be just a dog. A fancy dog to go with the fancy house and the extensive grounds. I was pretty damn sure it was not actually a fancy dog. I looked around me and started to move a lot faster. When I saw what I was looking for, I leapt.

My fingers brushed down the slender limb just above my head, failing to make purchase. I backed up a few paces and tried again.

It was really, really imperative that I get off the ground, immediately. I wedged my rock down the front of my pants, which was awkward and actually a bit painful, but better than leaving it on the ground.

On my third go, I managed to grab and swing. I worked my hands back and forth, lifting my fingers the tiniest bit until I had a good, solid grip on the thing. The last time I had been forced to do a pull-up had been when I played softball for the Lady Falcons back in High School. Suddenly Coach Peterson was in my head hollering, "Come on Stackhouse, let's make it to ten!"

Let's make it to one, Coach.

Jesus Christ. For a few seconds I flailed out with my legs, hoping maybe I could catch the trunk and walk my way up, but that wasn't happening. I could reach, but my toes just slid right off. I was wasting time, and energy. My arms screamed in protest, but I was almost certain now that I could hear something else in the woods, even over my own labored breathing.

I got my elbows up on the branch. I felt like it was bowing beneath my weight. Somehow that gave me the impetus I needed, and kicking wildly against the thin air I managed to press myself up to my palms and finally pull a knee up. For just a second, I felt like Mary Lou Retton. Nadia Comaneci. Nastia Liukin. One of those teeny, tiny Chinese girls.

Then I heard the growl as something not far off caught my scent and then was crashing closer. I could practically feel the paws thudding on the ground. From here, it was easier, and I was able to step from branch to branch moving upwards. By the time the hound reached the tree, I was at least twenty feet off the ground. I stayed dead still and I heard its wet sniffling of the ground. I could see it moving this way and that, trying to determine where I had gone.

I drew a ragged breath. I'd been holding it, but I just couldn't any more. It caught the sound. I knew it did because stopped moving, listening. My body betrayed me as I shuddered involuntarily, against the cold, against my fear. Even this high up, I felt it as the creature threw its paws up against the trunk. It must smell where my shoes had been. At this range, it was a roar. Keening, ululating. The leaves around me were shaking. It was me.

I fished the missile from my makeshift kangaroo pouch, levering myself against another branch to free my hands enough to do it. I weaved back and forth, looking for an opening to hurl it downwards. As soon as I found it, I took it, and the dull thud and the harsh, piercing whimper told me I'd connected. The vicious growl and the monstrous wail that followed informed me that I'd only made it mad.

There was a brain approaching. I crouched down against my branch and started praying, silently. Not for my reprieve, because I felt like that was beyond me at this point. One of the same creatures who had scaled my house wouldn't have the slightest difficulty scaling this tree. Anything more intelligent could simply cut it down, and what would I do? So I prayed for Gran, who would have to bury yet another child. Not that I figured there would be a body... and I prayed for Jason, to be strong enough to look after her. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. When the branch I rested on juddered I couldn't bear to look. When the harsh buffeting gusted frigid air across my skin, I just held on tighter.

But when the sharp beak clicked three times, managing, in the midst of all my terror, to sound irritated, I opened my eyes and saw Ghellert, who cocked his eagle head at me, and plummeted towards the ground where the fight was already in progress.


	13. Vampire the Oar

SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. I am lucky enough to have FiniteAnarchy as a crackerjack, A-1 beta.

* * *

Chapter 13 - Vampire the Oar

The snarling of the hellhound grew in both ferocity and volume as I clung to my perch. I was holding on for fear of falling as much as fear of meeting what was below. A fine job it would have been if I'd responded to my apparent rescue by Mintah's bodyguards by falling out of the tree and breaking my neck.

There was the fast but steady sound of beating wings.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

I looked to my right as I felt the gusts of air.

The eagle's talons were dug into the beast's back, like it was using its spine for a roost. It almost resembled a hyena in its shape, with its head looking too small atop very muscular body, hind and forequarters. Being comparatively smaller in size did not detract from the fact that its face was all gaping mouth and sinister eyes. I could see the glint off the jet orbs as they swiveled wildly above the jagged, gnashing teeth. It wasn't near close enough for me to smell or feel its breath, but I could hear it panting, and I could only imagine it would be fetid.

The eagle gained more air with every gust of the massive speckled wings, which were bent and broad. It reminded me absurdly of that butterfly exercise on a weight machine at the gym, though I doubted even the most steroid-addled body builder could match this relentless, thrumming pace while burdened by such a weight.

The hellhound thrashed and struggled, trying to break free and straining to get its hideous maw around any part of its attacker. I couldn't imagine the kind of pain the hound had to be ignoring as it twisted its body, tearing its own flesh under the relentless grasp of the raptor. I let out an involuntary shriek. Just as the beast lashed round, bringing its awful jaws snapping wildly towards the eagle's unprotected body, the bird let go.

With another whoosh, the bird shot upwards with miraculous speed, its claws extended and the hellhound began to fall.

The satisfying, fleshy thud as it hit the ground seconds later was punctuated by a high pitched yowl which cut off abruptly. All too quickly the eagle plunged downward in its wake, with its own victorious screech, shrill in the cold air.

I'd been so distracted by the nearer struggle that I'd lost track of what was happening on the ground. I didn't have to actually look down to be aware of so much movement, but I did look. The demon was flailing wildly, as two or maybe three eagles were buffeting it with their huge wings. They seemed to be trying to drive it into a more open space. This was great because it was quite distracted from me. There was another hellhound that looked to be injured, if the blackish glinting I saw across its flanks as it moved was blood. It was hard to tell from up here, but it seemed to be backing itself against the trunk of this tree, which gave the eagles a hard time meeting it head on.

Quite quickly the demon seemed to realize what the hound did instinctively and started maneuvering so its back was against the tree trunk - my tree trunk! The eagles were swooping up and down but this ineffectual dive-bombing seemed only to steer them closer. That wasn't going to work. I pulled myself together. My rescuers were going to need a little bit of help if we were all going to get out of this alive and relatively unharmed. I pulled my socks up and got a hold of myself.

Shifting my way around the branches I started to lower myself again, ever so carefully bringing myself around to just above where the demon and hound were now cornered. At intervals an eagle would alight on my branch as I worked my way downward. I tried to signal my plan to them, pointing downward, but if they understood, I couldn't say. I got only flaps of wings in response before they took off down again trying to reach their quarry. Finally, I was only a few feet above the demon's raised arms. It was hard to gauge exactly. When attacked around its head, the creature raised its arms, only to be attacked at its midsection, causing him to lower them.

Its frenetic movements under the unrelenting assault made it difficult to determine just how injured the thing was, but clearly it had enough energy to keep fighting. The second hound had pressed its body flat against the tree trunk now, lashing out only when the birds swooped in range. I took a deep breath, and I jumped.

I landed on top of the demon and kept moving downward, taking him forward into a face plant towards the ground. It scrabbled at my calves and feet. I bent my knees and threw out my arms, bracing my body for the landing that was definitely not as hard as it would have been in any environment besides a forest. I kicked my legs out wildly, getting the demon in the face and head, hopefully serving to further stun it, as it certainly hadn't expected my impromptu appearance. I felt the life go out of its arms as an eagle crashed to its back, snapping its spine in a single wrenching shift of its powerful legs as it screamed. The eagle screamed, that is. The demon would be doing no more of anything.

I started to crawl away hurriedly, at some point getting myself to my feet. I put my back against another tree and bent and rubbed my palms against my knees as the full attention of the four eagles fell upon the other hellhound. I heard myself shriek in terror as it snapped its jaws around the wing of one bird, and the leg of another. Now driven by the berserker rage, it was fighting for its life without regards to its defense. The other two birds took full advantage. When it finally fell, the hound's middle was in ribbons, its insides spilling out. The viscera were steaming slightly in the frigid air. I shuddered and looked away as the eagles cried their triumph.

It was quiet for a time, relatively so, anyway. I could feel shifts in the air as the birds moved around. Very nearby came a truly unsettling noise, as one of the shifters changed back to his human form. I had to swallow my sick feeling all over again. When it had stopped, I looked up to see a very stark naked Rudas lying near me on the ground, sitting up to clutch a leg that looked like it had been mangled by a shark.

"Oh god, how can I help you?" I asked, working my way closer, totally ignoring his lack of clothes.

"I will heal," he said quickly, though his deep, hoarse voice did not belie his pain.

Another naked man approached and crouched down beside Rudas. I'd been too distracted to hear him shift back, but I could see his arm was sliced open in several places, and the raw exposed skin had to be agony. Flesh wounds may not be life-threatening, but they certainly hurt like a bitch. Now that they were human again, I was getting this loud and clear from the minds of either shapeshifter.

"Our master, the goblin, and the vampire have gone to the main house," Rudas told me.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Northwest of Shreveport. I do not know the name. There is a lake to the north."

That wasn't terribly specific, but I had too many questions to be pressing for the finer points.

"How did you find me?"

"Your vampire found you. He led us and Mr. Hob followed him, with Mintah."

"They're fighting now?" I demanded.

He only raised his eyebrows in response. I suppose the answer was obvious.

"We have to go help them!" I said.

"I cannot fight another battle tonight," he told me, sounding truly disappointed about it. "My brother will assist me. Go with Ghellert and Sasha." The second name he said wasn't one I knew. I assumed it was the fourth eagle, one of those I'd seen outside Splendide much earlier, in his human form. Had that been only this afternoon? What time was it?

I was shooed away then, and found myself walking a more direct route back towards the house. Ghellert stayed nearby me, swooping from branch to branch above my head. The other, Sasha, was going farther afield before doubling back, keeping his eagle eyes peeled for any nearer danger. We encountered none.

Though it would have been kind of helpful to be able to talk to either of them about our plan once we reached the house, I knew that shifting back and forth was a huge exertion of energy that would be better spent on a fight if, or rather when, it came to that. Also, as tactful as I had tried to be, I could only ignore male nudity up to a point. Since it was definitely not the moment to be distracted by such things, I was grateful not to have to deal with that. I realized fairly quickly that Ghellert was leading the way. I grew more and more anxious as we walked, and when I heard the muted cry ring out from somewhere ahead of us, it only impelled me to move faster.

Eric was inside the house. I knew that for a certainty at this point. As soon as I realized this I tried to figure out if it was just my gut feeling, or if it was his blood in me, and I figured it was probably a combination of the two. When we reached the tree line I stopped and took a solid minute to try to get a handle on myself. I tried to remember exactly what it had felt like when Eric had done his whole "calling me to him" thing. I'd just had the strong impulse to go to him, even after I'd realized that I didn't know why.

This was different entirely because I definitely did know why I felt compelled to go to the house; it was because I was worried and I wanted to help. Maybe that was a foolish impulse, but I wasn't totally incompetent. Well, maybe by comparison I was, but I wasn't about to throw myself into the middle of any fray without thinking. I'd be careful, and I'd help where I was able. I needed some kind of weapon. I decided whether or not Eric was urging me to come to him was irrelevant, because I was going to go either way.

Once we hit the open yard, Ghellert flew ahead with Sasha, but both of them were more or less orbiting around me in the air. I stretched my mind as far as it would go. There were three very strong demons in the house, and two that weren't quite as strong. It's hard to explain the difference, but the stronger demons have more of a mental presence. One of them was Mintah. I didn't try to brush his mind as I didn't want to distract him. I felt Mr. Hob, whose mind was a wholly impenetrable snarl, but it was unique to him, or at least unique to his species, which were extremely rare. It was most likely that the goblin mind inside was our goblin. Finally there was Eric, the void of whom was substantial and familiar. That was also hard to explain, but I was becoming used to the shape of that space. Somehow I felt relieved, when I'd found it.

We reached the patio, absent of the traditional cushioned wicker furniture. This home base was either very new, or very temporary. Actually, because it was winter those things could have been stored away for the season. Darn it Sookie, stop being distracted!

One of the lesser demon minds was suddenly no longer present. Based on the positions of those inside, I thought it had been Hob who killed him. There were French doors nearest to us, but further down the house a single door hung ajar. I headed that way. I turned to motion to the eagles of the direction I was heading when I saw a streak of grey bounding toward the house. The eagles saw it at the same moment I did and screamed in unison, bolting towards it and upward. I turned and scrambled up the few steps and into what turned out to be a dark and empty kitchen. I pushed the door closed behind me, and panted against it for a few seconds before turning back and peeking out the window to see that the two eagles were now in battle with a third hellhound. I had to hope they could dispatch with it as easily as they had the others.

I didn't want to turn on a light. I could hear the fighting much, much closer now. I crept around slowly and silently, sliding open drawers in search of a knife or something. I had to go by touch, mostly, and finally my fingertips brushed against exactly what I'd hoped for. Well, maybe not exactly, but definitely something useful. It was a staple in an old Southern kitchen like this one, or even one like my Gran's; a relic from the days before the convenience of supermarkets and plastic wrapped portions in the grocer's freezer. I closed my fingers around the smooth wooden handle and drew out a massive cleaver. I hefted it in my hand, feeling its weight, which was substantial. It would have to be, given its purpose.

I read a lot, and so I'm familiar with the belief that women are delicate flowers, and if they have to fight or kill, will resort to things like jeweled throwing knives or poisons, or dainty little 22-caliber pistols with pearl inlay on the gun butt. Screw that. _This_ was a woman's weapon. The fleeting memory of Adele Stackhouse paring down a hog leg for Sunday dinner when Jason and I were small filled my mind. Yes. This would do.

Abruptly, a wrenching howl of pain echoed down the hallway and as I reached out mentally I found to my dismay that it was Mintah who was injured. I didn't know for how long they had been engaged in the fighting here. It was only a few scant minutes since we'd come up out of the woods but suddenly everything seemed to be speeding up. I was afraid to run out into the midst of them; there seemed to be a large open space at the end of the hall. I heard Mintah howl again and felt Eric and Hob moving together towards a different target. If Mintah lost this fight, what exactly was my life expectancy anyway?

I ran forward. I wasn't completely surprised by the scene, after all I'd known the rough positions of everyone, but I was taken aback by the evidence of destruction around me. There was broken furniture and holes and other impact points along the walls. The ground was covered in blood, broken glass, plaster, bodies, and somehow even more revoltingly, body parts.

Mintah had his back to the wall, crouched, and a demon towered over him, a terrifying sword held high in his arms. He was poised for a killing blow, one that would take Mintah's head. He has already lost a hand. It was lying next to him in a pool of dark blood. I lunged, and sunk my cleaver into the demon's forearm. I felt it bite down and into the bone but it went no further, for though I was stronger than I should have been (thanks, Eric), I was still just a human.

It reeled, and I was flung backwards as its shoulder connected with my face. The cleaver was stuck in its arm. Mintah, who had seen and possibly felt me coming, didn't hesitate. My employer wrenched the sword out of his attacker's injured grasp and in one majestic sweeping motion did to him exactly what he had intended to do to Mintah, severing the creature's astonished head.

"Miss Stackhouse, out!" Mintah ordered before rounding on his heel to rejoin Eric and Hob.

Eric was fighting one and sometimes two. He'd acquired a sword as well. Hob shifted around, trying to get his arms around either of the demons. He looked almost like a basketball player on defense, trying to block a shot. Hob's reach was truly impressive, considering his height. It nearly matched Eric's, who was twice as tall.

I stood mesmerized, unable to follow the order to leave. I watched as the injured Mintah caught the lesser demon with a glancing blow that didn't seem to injure so much as it did draw his attention away from Eric. Hob followed Mintah and the two of them together worked at cornering the lesser demon.

I realized with a shock that the creature Eric was fighting was Mr. Herbahz, or Haagenti. It wasn't easy to recognize him. Though he'd looked perfectly human when he'd come to Splendide, not so now. His arms and chest were massive. He was shorter than Eric, but much broader. While his skin bore the same ruddy color as it had when I'd seen him before, his short hair was darker and what had been a kindly and benign old face was now twisted in a determined and blackhearted sneer.

I watched with fascination as the two circled each other trading blows, pressing one another only to break apart and come immediately back together. It was vicious and almost too quick to follow. Finally I saw Eric falter, losing his footing and lurching forward. Before I could stop myself I screamed in horror as Haagenti's blade sunk deep into Eric's shoulder.

I lurched forward and wrenched my cleaver out of the arm of the fallen demon at my feet but by the time I'd gotten it free and rose to my feet again, I could see what Eric's plan had been. Eric had dug his sword into Haagenti's belly. Just as I stood and watched, he wrenched it sideways and clean out the other side. As he fell, Eric rose to his feet and finished the job.

My mouth hung open in horror and awe.

Mintah and Hob had finished the last of the lesser creatures. Hob was now moving around the room while Mintah slumped down to the ground to cope with the stub of his wrist. I glanced at the hand on the ground for a moment, then back to Eric, who staggered forward and fell to his knees. His sword clattered to the ground as he wrapped his arm around himself to clutch his injured shoulder. His other arm was entirely limp at his side.

It was suddenly very quiet.

This was broken by Mr. Hob, who very unceremoniously kicked over a demon corpse, divesting it of a piece of loose cloth wrapped around it. He used this to recover Mintah's hand. Hob carried the hand over to my boss and began trying to minister to him. I started to step closer to Eric and when I got within a few feet of him, he groaned.

"Stay back," he warned.

I stopped.

"You're injured," I said stupidly.

Now that I was closer I could see that his arm was nearly severed. He was not doing a very good job of holding it in place. I moved behind him, brushing his hand away and lifting his arm gingerly, shifting it so that it was in the proper position to mend and heal. He groaned again as I did so, and slumped backwards on to his butt. I held his arm steady as he lowed himself so he was lying on the floor.

His eyes were closed and I looked down at him, now kneeling over him myself.

"You'll heal, right?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," he groaned.

"How long?" I asked.

"Maybe by tomorrow night. I must rest for a moment."

It was a mark of the pain he was in that he wasn't crazed with his bloodlust. That's really the only thing that made me offer.

"Do you need to feed?" I asked.

His eyes snapped open.

"I doubt there is any Life Force in the kitchens here," he said grimly.

I shifted myself to his injured side and rolled back my sleeve. I rested my other hand on his injured shoulder.

"If you can control yourself, and stop, you can. If you can't, I will pull your arm off myself," I said. I gave him a small smile, tapping my fingers very lightly so he would get the picture.

I did have every intention of hurting him if he took too much, but I was trying to be nice about it. I was giving him the benefit of a lot of doubt. Pain was really not a flattering look on his face.

He regarded me for a long moment then gave me a slight nod. I lowered my arm to his mouth and he brought his other hand up to hold my wrist very gently. He turned my arm slightly, licking across the radial artery and bit very slowly. I felt only the slightest pinch before he began to drink. He let his eyes close again and after a minute I felt the muscles in his arm spasm where my knees were pressed against him. It was working; he was healing. That was good.

He stopped before I had to tell him to, and he pierced his own tongue on his fang and flicked it out across the tiny wounds in a smear of his saliva and blood, which was disgusting, but in comparison to our surroundings, not overly so. I knew it would heal the little wounds very quickly. After that, he lay back again and I rolled my sleeve back down. I found myself staring down at him and I brushed some hair away from his face, now set with a far more suitable calm expression.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Sure, Eric. Thanks for helping Mintah and leading them here."

He gave only a low grunt in response, so I rose to my feet, leaving him to recuperate for another few minutes.

Mintah was in a state of similar repose. He held a bloody parcel in his lap, which I presumed contained his hand, because the wrapped end of his arm very clearly did not contain a hand.

"Are you alright, sir?" I asked.

"I will live."

"Your hand?" I asked, fretfully.

"I will learn to use the other," he said grimly. His eyes wandered to the vampire, almost longingly for a moment, before he shook his head. "This went better than it could have gone. Had they been better prepared for us, had we not had additional help..." his voice trailed off.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"My clerk is coming shortly, with supplies. Mr. Hob and he will recover what was stolen from us. Presumably the things are here, somewhere."

"Where are we?" I asked again.

"Not far inside of Texas, south of Caddo Lake."

I shook my head. We weren't more than 30 miles from Shreveport, as the crow flies. Or the vampire. Or the were-eagle. Just far enough away to be in a different jurisdiction, by either supe or human standards. I'm sure this location had been a very deliberate choice. Supes may not cooperate, but they do gossip. Local happenings, such as a dozen demons moving in to an area, would have been noted.

"Where are the others?" Mintah asked.

"Rudas and, I'm sorry, I didn't catch his name. They were injured in the woods. There were two hellhounds, one demon. They said they would be okay. Ghellert and Sasha came up to the house, but they caught another hound just as I came inside."

I looked around again and realized that the French doors leading out to the patio connected here to this room. I pulled back one of the slashed curtains but I could see nothing outside.

"Wait," cautioned Mintah, and for once, I listened. I couldn't sense anything outside, but then I couldn't "hear" the hounds, nor the shifters, when they were in their animal forms. No one in this room was in fighting fettle at the moment. I could only hope the eagles had made easy work of any four-legged foes.

I nodded and turned back to my boss.

"What can I do to help?" I asked.

"Come with me," Hob growled from behind me. I hadn't heard him reenter. I looked at Mintah who gave me a nod, then looked at Eric, who was evidently still healing.

I followed Hob out to the main foyer and back down the short hall that led to the kitchen. A narrow door I hadn't noticed earlier opened down to the cellar. There were wine racks, some with bottles in them. Demons greatly enjoy human food and drink, so it was entirely likely that these things did belong to the demons staying here. Beyond the wine racks there were other sorts of racks, containing what I immediately recognized were the missing artifacts from Splendide, as well as a number of other trinkets.

"Don't touch anything," Mr. Hob said.

Noted.

I nodded my embarrassment and moved to lean against a convenient metal pole; a support beam for the house above. Being down here was something of a novelty to me. The high water table in this part of the South generally prohibits underground structures. I suppose it spoke to the wealth of the estate above, that it would contain such a feature. It wasn't a large space, regardless. Leonard the clerk arrived and I was in no one's way as he and Hob began to carry down the padded crates that we would use to pack everything up for transport back to Splendide.

I rubbed at my face, wincing as I brushed across my cheekbone. I just knew I'd have a terrific bruise tomorrow. Somehow that thought alone brought tears to my eyes, though seconds later I knew it had only been the tipping point. I let my knees bend as my back slid down the pole and I crouched there, face in my hands, feeling battered and exhausted, hungry, and horrified.

I knew _so much_ about the other things that share this world with us, and yet seeing it, really seeing it, just felt like way too much to cope with. In the heat of the moment I'd managed to take it all in my stride but now that it was calm? What I wanted more than anything in the world at that moment was to climb into my bed, pull the covers up over my head, and believe that monsters didn't really exist.

That could never happen.

My stomach was roiling as I finally cried myself out. I felt faint and miserable as I pushed myself back up to my feet. Leonard and Hob had tactfully ignored my breakdown. Perhaps they'd known it was coming, and had brought me down here on purpose, so I could do it out of the way. With a final sniffle and a sigh, I walked back over to them, ready to help if I could. I refused to dwell on the fact that cataloging supernatural artifacts alongside a demon and a goblin was my comforting tether to normality.

Leonard looked up from his lists to hand me a pair of gloves. I pulled them on and got to work with the two of them, recovering and cataloging the inventory and packing everything into the crates. Leonard had evidently traveled here from Splendide by van, behind the rest of the party. He was a curious creature; very fastidious and extremely focused on his work. I had the strong impression that I'd be bothering him in the extreme if I asked him anything more about himself.

After we'd loaded everything of ours, Hob started in on Haagenti's own possessions. Mintah was claiming them all under Demon Law of Incursion, or at least that's what Hob muttered. It seemed strange that Mintah, an exile, would be able to claim anything under the rights of demon laws, but I figured maybe it was more of a tradition.

Leonard grew still for a moment, ceasing his meticulous writing. The sudden absence of the sound of the pen scratching on his parchment caught my attention immediately.

"We must go upstairs right now," he said in his soft, whispering voice. He set all of his work down and immediately walked back towards the steps.

I glanced at Hob who merely grunted and followed.

Mintah and Eric were standing side by side in the foyer as though they were waiting for something. Eric had his sword again, held in his uninjured hand. He beckoned with the injured one, though it seemed to me that he was being careful about the range of motion he allowed himself. His face was unreadable, so if he was still in pain, I couldn't tell. I went to stand beside him and he nudged me back behind him a bit. A half step to the side and he would be completely blocking me.

Abruptly, there was a knock at the front door.

"Enter," Mintah commanded.

Two demon guards entered and stood on either side of the door, preceding a more formidable figure dressed in a sleek, black suit. His black hair was slicked back and he had dark crimson eyes. He seemed especially broad across the back and shoulders, and I wondered fleetingly if he were concealing wings beneath his jacket. His ears were crinkled, looking mangled by human standards, but it was very obvious that despite his raiment, he was not human.

"Mintah," the demon spoke.

"Haageros," replied Mintah.

"My son is dead," Haageros stated. So this was Haagenti's father.

"He died in single combat with his sword in his hand," Mintah replied.

"Who defeated him?"

Mintah must have gestured to Eric because he took a small step forward.

"And you are?" Haageros asked.

"Eric Northman."

"And what crime did my son commit against you, vampire, that you would kill him?"

"He sent his minions to attack my human in her home."

The demon's appraising gaze fell on me for a moment.

"They did not succeed," Haageros observed.

"They did not," Eric agreed, stepping back, and slightly more in front of me than he had been.

Any other situation and I might have balked at the obvious possession he was displaying, but at this moment apparently, Eric was the resident bad ass. I was perfectly content to be standing well behind him.

"The cousins?" Haageros had shifted back to Mintah.

"Also dead," Mintah answered.

"Well," Haggeros said, obviously weighing the situation carefully. After a long pause he continued, "What claims do you make?"

"This land, and anything contained herein, much of which I can assure you, was already mine."

"Granted. What more?"

"I do not wish to hear from you again," Mintah said.

There was another pregnant silence as Haageros contemplated the request.

"Granted."

"Good," agreed Mintah. With his good hand, he tossed a cloth-wrapped parcel over to Haageros, who caught it.

The demon twitched back the cloth revealing Mintah's severed hand.

"What am I to do with this?"

"Deliver it to your masters," Mintah said with indifference. "Tell them to be satisfied with their pound of flesh."

Haageros and Mintah shared a long, hard stare before finally the visiting demon inclined his head. Very quickly he departed, followed by his guards. I followed their brains outside and some distance from the house, before they blinked out of my perception.

It was my sigh of relief that seemed to break the tension.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"That was Haagenti's sire," said Mintah.

"Yeah, I got that," I agreed. "But that's just it? They aren't going to bother you anymore?"

"That family at least, will not," Mintah agreed.

"And they just... accept it all?" I asked, disbelievingly.

"They will not have been unaware of what Haagenti has done here. This was simply a final testimony."

Mintah broke the ranks and ordered Hob and Leonard back downstairs.

I was still a little baffled as to what was happening.

"Mr. Northman, you will see Miss Stackhouse home, I trust?"

"Yes," agreed Eric.

Well then.

"Miss Stackhouse, please report for work by noon tomorrow."

"Alright," I said, not troubling to hide the uncertainty from my voice.

"We'll speak at that time. I have much to wrap up here."

Eric's arm was around me again and I was being led out the front door.

"We're not flying, are we?" I asked tremulously. "Because I really don't think I could handle that tonight."

"No," Eric assured me. "Pam is coming with her car."

Despite the cold, I found the outside to be greatly preferable over the interior of the house, which had grown very foul as the smell of the demon blood permeated the air in there, along with the dust and debris from all of the fighting. I breathed a deep breath. I heard the shriek of either Ghellert or Sasha far overhead and found it to be an oddly reassuring sound as well.

I moved over to the van that Leonard had brought, the doors of which were flung open, and sat down just inside of it. Eric came and sat next to me as we waited.

"Seems like you made a friend today," I observed.

"Yes, it seems so," he agreed.

"I wonder what you get out of this arrangement," I hazarded.

He nearly chuckled. "I suppose we'll see."

"How is your arm?"

"Stiff."

"Thanks for coming," I said, again.

"How grateful are you?" he replied. It was only the hint of a leer. Vampires don't get tired, per se, but it was clear that the majority of Eric's energy was going into his healing.

I lifted my eyebrows at him and he merely smirked in response.

"Perhaps another night you will show me," he said.

"Don't hold your breath," I scoffed.

"You are aware that I do not actually need to breathe."

"Yes, Eric. It's just an expression. It means it is unlikely."

"We'll see," he said, and before I could further object, just out of orneriness, he continued, "You are not actually Cataliades' by-blow."

"No," I agreed. "You already know who my parents were."

"But not the connection to the demons. There is no taste of demon in your blood. There is something..." he mused, and I could almost see him moving his tongue around in his mouth as he tried to recall the taste of my blood.

"Oh?" I asked. My indifference wasn't feigned. I'd resigned myself to the fact that he would know my secret, or part of it, at least, when I'd made the offer, earlier. There was no reason to make it easy on him, however.

"It is different now than it was when I tasted it the other day."

That was surprising.

"Is it you?" I frowned. "Tasting your blood in me?"

"I do not think so. Perhaps it is simply all the demon blood splashed around. Your taste is lovely, but not quite as nice as I'd recalled."

"Um, thanks."

"You're welcome," he agreed, contentedly.

Weirdo.

I leaned against the side of the van door with a yawn but he pulled me over to him. It was no warmer and only a smidgen softer than the hard metal, but the shape of him was more comfortable to lean against. I was tentative at first, being afraid to hurt him, but he threw his arm around me and I settled back. He leaned against me a little bit in kind, and brought his sword up to rest across his lap, relaxing a bit as we waited.

"You're quite good with that," I said, gesturing to the sword.

"You've no idea." There was the leer again.

"I meant the sword."

"So did I."

"I meant the sharp metal sword."

"I have had much training and more opportunity to use a sword over the years," he relented.

"Is that one yours?" I asked.

"It is now," he said, taking it up again. He gave a half-hearted swipe through the air. It was a steel rapier, only about an inch and a half wide at the base, with a fairly ornate shell-guard and pommel. It looked a bit girlish in his large hand.

"I would have pictured you with spatha or something."

"You know about swords."

"I know about all sorts of historical artifacts."

"The Roman sword is good, and I did learn to fight in that style," he paused for a long moment here. Maybe he was remembering something. "They are similar to the ones I learned to use when I was alive. I like the broad blade, but I will trade it for the cross-guard. I am rather fond of my fingers and regrowing them is a considerable nuisance."

He gave the sword another twirl before holding it nearer to me.

"Where is this from?" he asked.

I studied it carefully as he turned his wrist slowly back and forth.

"Northern Europe, 17th or early 18th century maybe."

"Good guess," he agreed.

A powder-blue minivan turned up the driveway then, crunching slowly towards us across the gravel.

"Here is Pam," he said, and I sat up properly.

I glanced at the car, then at Eric. His lip quirked up.

"Is she going to hop out of that thing dressed in black vinyl?"

"Probably. She was working tonight."

She wasn't dressed for work though. She was wearing a sleeveless white buttoned shirt and pink capri pants, and she didn't hop out to greet us. The rear door opened automatically for me.

"Hi Pam," I said, getting in. Eric slid the door closed behind me before taking shotgun.

"Good evening, Sookie. You must be cold. I will turn on the seat warmer." She sounded pleased to have an opportunity to use the luxury feature.

"That would be lovely, thank you," I smiled.

"The demon is dead?" I heard Pam ask Eric.

He proceeded to give her the full run down on the evening's events, during which time I learned that he had led the eagles to me just outside the estate, and Mintah had used the mail glove and one of the pegs to travel instantly to him. Mr. Hob, it seemed, had his own method of traveling, and was able to meet them there.

"The eagles left once we arrived, and I knew that Sookie was in peril, so they went to her to deal with the hellhounds, and the goblin and demon and I were able to take out the two in front easily. After that it was a small matter of time before we were able to get into the house, there was a bottleneck at the door, which was to our advantage. They sent the weaker ones after us first, and I think the goblin killed another hound at one point."

Pam was clearly enthralled as he got in to all the details of his own battle.

"If I had been there, perhaps you and Mintah would not have been injured," she said.

"Perhaps," Eric agreed shortly. "Sookie was able to cleave one of the demons before he could behead Mintah."

"That was fortunate," Pam said hesitantly. It was clear she wasn't sure if Mintah was now an ally of theirs. After tonight, I'd say he was.

"It was," agreed Eric. "And now, we are assured there will be no further trouble from this quarter."

"That is very good," agreed Pam, sounding more comfortable.

They fell silent then, though at intervals I caught them glancing at each other, and again I had to assume that they were somehow communicating to each other. It was obviously nothing they intended me to know, and so I tried not to pay attention to it.

When we finally arrived at my house, Pam pushed a button and once again the side door swung slowly back of its own accord.

"Thanks for coming to pick us up," I said to Pam. "Goodnight now."

"Goodnight," she replied.

Eric had gotten out, and I realized only as we walked towards my house that my keys, wallet, and phone were at Splendide. I stopped short, frowning, but as I turned back, Eric had produced all three things and handed them to me.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"I assumed you would need them."

"That's very thoughtful of you, thank you."

I unlocked my door and stepped inside and he followed me. He seemed to be waiting for me to say or do something, and after I shut the door I rounded on him with a questioning look.

"What's up, Eric?" I asked, feeling entirely too tired to play any kind of game.

"I will be at Splendide tomorrow at first dark to see your boss," he informed me.

"Alright..."

"I am pleased that you are safe," he said.

"Me too. That I am. And that you are," I said quickly. "I hope your arm heals alright tonight, or today, I guess."

"I would like to kiss you now," he informed me, stepping closer.

I bit my lip, sighing through my nose.

It would not be the most foolish thing I'd done today.

I nodded very slightly, and then his hand was cupping my jaw, his thumb freeing my lip from between my teeth and his mouth was on me. This was appropriate, yes? The maiden bestows a kiss upon her rescuer. And he did ask permission. He'd even carried my favor in to battle with him, if a cellphone counts. Very abruptly I was thinking of nothing at all, nothing but his lips on mine, his hand in my hair, his tongue pressing into my mouth, stroking mine, tasting.

I gasped as his arm curled around my waist pulling me towards him and lifting me all in one motion, and I folded my arms around his shoulders and he was kissing me again. I let my fingers curl up into his hair. I may have let out a little moan, which only seemed to inflame his passion. It went on and on, until finally he set me down on my feet again, still holding me against him as he bent his head to the top of my hair. It was me who let go of the hug first, and then he stepped back, smiling faintly.

"Good night Sookie. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night Eric."

I locked the door behind him and walked to my bathroom in a daze. My shower was quick and as I pulled on a flannel nightshirt and fresh underwear. I climbed into my welcoming bed, pulling up the covers around me and snuggling down. "What a day," I murmured aloud, as I closed my eyes.

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A/N: In case you haven't already, consider taking a look at the entries for the Every Picture Tells a Story contest. There are 3 from this fandom, all of which are great. You can look them up on the profile page of user: random-fandomdotnet. This is the last week to vote for your favorite, so if you're looking for something else to read before Friday, check them out!


	14. A Vampire for Each Wind That Blows

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. Today's story is brought to you by the letter V, the number 1, and the beta FiniteAnarchy (who is stupendous).

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Chapter 14 - A Vampire for Each Wind That Blows

I awoke with a groan. I'd gone to bed with wet hair; too weary to bother with the drier, but too unwilling to leave a square inch of me unwashed after the night before. I was soaking wet now. It was not the refreshing dampness of having just bathed, either, but the disgusting clamminess of a cold sweat. I stumbled from my bed, lurching toward the bathroom. I palmed at the door handle, realizing with sudden alarm that my fingers were numb. I shook my hands, using one to press the fingers of the other around the handle until I made it turn. I was already headed to my knees so I managed to aim myself in the direction of the toilet. I hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before so there was nothing to throw up. My body wasn't convinced of that, and I hunched, heaving dryly for a long while. How is it possible to wake up feeling more wrecked than before you went to sleep?

I crawled into my bathtub. Yes, crawled. It was a fight getting out of the damned flannel nightdress, one I almost gave up. It was only the thought of how much worse it would be trying to get out of it wet that forced me to rid myself of the thing. I turned the water on as hot as I could bear it and I slumped back against the wall, letting it hit my legs and my belly. There was no hope of standing up. My shoulders and back quickly rebelled against the cold tile wall. I inched forward, shivering under the hot spray. I stayed like that until the hot water ran out. It was a frantic scramble to push the taps off once I realized that was coming. I lay there huddled for a time. I fell back to sleep for a few minutes.

I awoke shivering and struggled to lift myself. I felt so weak. My old robe, shabby but warm, hung on the back of the door. I got into it. I fastened a towel over my head like a turban but it was painfully tight. I loosened it, and it wouldn't stay in place. I whimpered in frustration. I dried my hair as best I could with the towel then glared at the wide-toothed comb that sat on my counter. It took an agonizing half hour to work through the nest of tangles I'd created, but by the end, it was almost dry, as was the rest of me.

Compared to the steamy bathroom the rest of my house was an icebox. I dressed as quickly as I was able in sweat pants and a sweat shirt and two pairs of socks. The thermostat said it was seventy-five degrees in the house. On top of everything else, that was malfunctioning too. I turned it up to eighty-five. I wanted to get back into bed but my bed was disgusting and still damp, not to mention smelly, with sweat. I pulled the sheets off and dragged the whole pile of my bedding down the hall towards the laundry closet, but suddenly it felt like too much effort. I just left everything in a pile on the kitchen floor.

I drank three glasses of lukewarm water. I got fresh sheets out of the linen closet. My phone was making its annoying, intermittent crying to let me know that I had missed calls. Cataliades, Splendide. I pushed the button that would connect me to Niall.

"It's Sookie again," I said. I registered how weak my voice sounded. "I'm sick. Please tell him it's urgent."

"I'll give him the message."

"Tha-"

I'd almost broken a cardinal rule in my stupor. I hung up on the fairy answering service. I called Splendide.

"Good morning, Splendide International, Shreveport. My name is Holly. How can I help you?"

"Holly?" I croaked.

"Yes, this is Holly speaking, how can I help you?" She sounded slightly uncertain.

"It's Sookie. I can't come in today. Tell Brenda okay?"

"Sookie?"

"I'm really sick. I don't know what is wrong with me."

"There's a mandatory staff meeting at three..."

"I won't be in," I said. "Tell Brenda please."

"Okay, I'll tell her," Holly told me.

"Thanks Holly," I mumbled, hanging up.

I couldn't remember ever feeling like this. I was sure I was going to die. I have heard people say this when they're sick with the flu, but the fairy component in my blood had almost always protected me from these kinds of human maladies. I hadn't been sick since I was very young. It was one of the few things about the supernatural part of me that I understood, and could be grateful for. I had collapsed on the couch beside the table upon which I'd thrown my keys the night before. I pulled my afghan around me feeling cold and alone and suddenly I thought of one thing that could help me. I was still clutching my phone, so I pushed and held the "1" on the number pad.

"Hello?"

"Gran? It's Sookie," I said feebly.

"Sookie, honey, what's wrong?"

"I'm real sick," I told her. "Gran? Do you think you could, would it be too much to ask for you to come here? If you're not busy?"

"I'll leave right now," she said, immediately. "Hold tight, honey."

The best part, was that she didn't sound panicked, just decided.

Gran doesn't visit me very often. When she does, it's almost always in the company of Jason, with him driving. It's not because she doesn't like to, but it is quite a long trip for her these days. In her normal course, she doesn't have to travel any farther from Bon Temps than Ruston, and only occasionally that, to do her shopping. I should have felt guilty for asking her to come. I was a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself. Instead of truly feeling guilty, I only felt relieved.

An hour and fifteen minutes later she let herself in the front door. She has my spare set of keys at her house, of course. Like I would leave them with Jason.

I heard her clicking her tongue as she peered in the kitchen to see the mess I'd left with the bedsheets.

"Sookie?" she called out.

"In here," I said weakly. I flapped my arm out in some attempt at a wave, not like she could see it.

When she did see me, I saw her eyes go wide for a moment before she set her mouth in a rigid line and got down to the business of tending to me. The first order of business was apparently re-situating me on the couch. She took both my arms and pulled me up and spread one blanket out for me to lay on and then pulled the second one down to cover me. Then she left and returned with two of my pillows. She stripped the cases off and redressed them from the linens I'd toted in here, then lifted my shoulders and stuffed them under me. Once I was satisfactorily tucked in, she stood over me with her hands at her hips.

"What happened on your face, baby?"

Oh. I guess that promised bruise had bloomed. I hadn't yet managed to check a mirror.

"My cheek got hit. It looks worse than it feels I'm sure. That's not the trouble."

She rubbed her hands together and then pressed her palm to my forehead. I winced as she did so. Her hands were ice cold.

"You're running a fever," she informed me. I nodded weakly.

"When's the last time you ate some real food?" she asked.

Real food? Probably Sunday, at your house, or the leftovers with Mr. C when I got home.

"Yesterday morning," I answered.

There was more disapproving clicking.

"How long have you been like this?" she asked.

"I was fine last night... A few days ago, I was sick. I fainted, twice. It was a day or two coming on, but I also was not getting enough sleep, and then, I..." I trailed off.

'Then I drank the blood of a thousand year old vampire and felt terrific. Incidentally, that's why I looked so great when you saw me a couple days ago,' was the true answer, but it wasn't the one I wanted to give. I also didn't want to lie to her.

"Then, um. Well, then I felt better for a couple of days, but then this morning I woke up and felt like death."

"There are holes in that story young lady, but we'll get back to that in a little while. I'm going to go clean up and fix a lunch. You stay here."

Like I was going anywhere.

I nodded my compliance.

She flipped on the television and brought the volume down very low.

"Try to get some sleep," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," I said meekly.

She walked around the room closing all the blinds and drawing all the curtains. I did sleep. I woke up a couple of hours later when my bladder demanded it. My house smelled like clean laundry and pot roast. I struggled to my feet and made it halfway to the bathroom before I slumped against the wall. Gran appeared at my side and guided me silently into the front bathroom. She waited outside while I peed. When I'd finished, she brought me out and sat me down at the kitchen table. I pressed my uninjured cheek against the cool table, watching from that awkward position as she worked busily in front of the stove.

"Your phone's been ringing," she informed me.

"I called work," I said helplessly.

"It came up as Splendide three times, and once as Brenda, and once as Mr. Cataliades."

"If it rings again, just answer and say I'm sick."

"Alright."

I closed my eyes and just listened to her bustle back and forth, opening the refrigerator and various cabinets, stirring, flipping. I had no idea what she was making. I could register that it smelled nice, but it was totally unappetizing. A few minutes later, she was standing over me, nudging my elbows off the table.

"Sit up," she ordered, and I did so.

She set a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of what I knew to be Campbell's Tomato Soup down in front of me. I made myself eat almost half the sandwich, dunking it in the soup.

Gran woke me up on the bathroom floor where I'd passed out after having thrown up my lunch. She cleaned my face like I was a child and brought me mouthwash to rinse and spit. She brought me back to the couch so she could sit with me while I slept.

"Have you called Mr. Brigant?" She sounded stiff as she asked.

I must have her really worried. We don't talk about Niall much. When we do, she certainly doesn't refer to him as my great grandfather. His presence in my life was a reminder of her shame. That wasn't something we had ever spoken about in blunt terms, but she could hardly hide her feelings from me. I wished she could.

"I left an urgent message this morning. Third call this week. Something is wrong."

She huffed.

"That's for sure. I'm calling the doctor."

"Gran, I..."

"I'm calling the doctor," she said again, firmly.

I stayed silent, mentally cringing as I heard her thoughts. I couldn't really help it. My shields were practically nonexistent at that point. Maintaining them is a constant effort that I just didn't have the energy to expend. She'd been given a contact by Mr. Cataliades, in the case of a true emergency.

That wasn't the part that bothered me, really.

Now and then, on these rare occasions that my _otherness_ came to the fore, I'd pick up on these sorts of thoughts in her. Little things that she knew. When things that should have surprised her, didn't. Memories of the stories Fintan, the half-fairy who had been her lover and the father of her children, had told her. These remembrances had an ethereal quality in her mind, like whispers in a dream. He hadn't told her all of everything, but he'd told her plenty. It was only in rare moments like these that she allowed any of it to be real.

There was a touch of bitterness along with her great sorrow.

It hadn't been all that long ago that my Aunt Linda had died. I'd been away at school. Jason had been little help to her. Our cousin Hadley, Linda's daughter, was long gone by then. Gran had watched Linda wither and die, more or less on her own. It had not been easy for her. She had nursed, and comforted, and prayed, but in the end, none of it was enough.

Deep below all of that loss was the tiny part of her, a very real and human part, that resented the fact that our fairy kin had not done more for Linda. Had not done anything at all, actually.

Linda did not have the spark, just as Jason and our father and Hadley did not have it. Only me, in our line. It was what made me special, in Niall's eyes. Worthy of acknowledging. Worthy of his protection and love. It was an indefinable thing, really. What it boiled down to was the fact that I had a place of my own in the other world, while the rest of my family did not.

Niall said it shouldn't have happened. Linda's cancer. He'd blamed the iron and the toxins in the world for weakening her, for leaving her susceptible.

When Gran looked at me, I could feel her disquiet. She was seeing me, and I looked terrible in her mind's eye. She was also seeing her daughter, on the worst days of treatment. Before, there had been nothing more that she could do.

So my Aunt Linda had stayed sick, and died.

But I had a lifeline.

I said nothing as she looked up the number. She had to put on the lamp so she could see. It was late in the afternoon, by now, and the shades did an adequate job of keeping out the waning sunlight.

She'd brought her old phone book along with her. Such things are all computerized these days, but Gran was an old dog and computers were a new trick. She'd never owned one, and never would. Instead, there was the small binder, about half the size of a standard piece of paper and two inches thick. There were dozens of smaller pieces of paper, business cards, and the ripped corners of envelopes tucked in to it. It was patterned on the front with fades flowers. The book normally resided in the writing table that sat in the corner of her living room. It was an object that, as children, Jason and I had never been allowed to touch, nor even look at. It was a complete record of my grandmother's entire lifelong acquaintanceship. Somehow its presence in her hand seemed ominous.

"Dr. Amy Ludwig," she read aloud, locating the entry she'd searched for.

She reached out for my phone, and I handed it over. She put the volume way up for her own benefit, but it meant that sitting this close, I could hear almost everything too.

There was a long talking message once the call connected, and Gran listened patiently, in case the automated voice gave instruction for which number to dial to connect her call. Eventually, we heard, "Hello?"

"Doctor Ludwig?" Gran inquired.

"Speaking. What do you want?"

"Good afternoon, this is Adele Stackhouse calling on behalf of my granddaughter," Gran began.

"...Not accepting new patients," I heard the voice retort.

"My granddaughter is Sookie Stackhouse, granddaughter of Fintan Brigant. She is sponsored by Desmond Cataliades."

She recited that information in a cool, dispassionate voice, as if she'd been instructed to do so. She probably had been, when given the number. I knew it cost her to say those things out loud.

"What's wrong with her?" the little voice barked.

"She is ill. Sweating and feverish, though she claims she is freezing. She comes and goes from consciousness, all day long. She said she woke up this way," Gran recited. "Her skin is greyish. She cannot keep any food down, though she hadn't eaten properly in over twenty-four hours. She needs _healing_."

The last word too, as one that plainly Gran has been instructed to use. Not "medical attention." I needed healing.

"Can she travel?"

"I should say not." Gran was showing a little of her own pique at the doctor's brusque tone.

"Where is she now?"

Gran recited my address.

"I'll come soon. Try to keep her conscious."

Gran huffed again. Evidently the doctor had hung up on her. She got up and went to the kitchen and returned with a small glass of orange juice, and helped me into a sitting position, bidding me to try to take a couple of small swallows. I managed, and felt my throat first burn, and then be soothed.

"I think you better tell me how this started," Gran admonished.

So I did, at least in parts.

"Then," I began. I was short of breath, and my anxiety was up, but I continued on in my confession. I'd have to repeat all this to the healer when she arrived, and I wouldn't do my grandmother the discourtesy of having that be the first she heard this news.

"The guy I was helping out with my telepathy, he was, he _is_, a vampire... and he had offered to heal me before but I said no, but after I fainted again in the kitchen on Saturday, he offered again and I took him up on it, so, he gave me some of his blood. And when I woke up Sunday all my cuts and scrapes were healed and I felt better. I've had this chill again the last day or so, but not until this morning was it this bad. I was out last night and I was fine..."

She let out a long sigh. To my infinite relief, she wasn't angry, or even disappointed. She was just completely out of her depth. She had no idea what to make of it all.

At Dr. Ludwig's order, Gran sat back in a chair out of the way as she examined me. She did the normal things like check my pulse and breathing and blood pressure, but the examination seemed mostly to consist of her smelling me and licking my skin, and at one point, pricking my arm and tasting my blood. That was when Gran saw the fang marks Eric had left the night before.

Dr. Ludwig is not human. She might pass for a human with dwarfism, but her proportions aren't exactly right. Maybe a pygmy? To me, she looked like a hobbit. Her brain felt like nothing else I'd encountered, which wasn't saying much. It's a big world out there. Her saving grace, at least as far as Gran was concerned, was that she did look the part of a doctor, if an old-fashioned one. She wore a white coat, black pants, and unfashionable white shoes with Velcro closures.

My phone rang then, and Gran stirred from watching the doctor work over me to answer it.

"Hold on, Miss Hesterman," I heard Gran say. "Sookie, I'm going to talk to your boss for a moment."

Abruptly I felt hard patting on the side of my face.

"Stay with me now. I need you awake," the doctor admonished.

I nodded, without being completely aware of where she was in the room at that point. I thought maybe she was grateful for a reprieve from some of the weirdness.

"When was the last time you ingested vampire blood?" she asked.

"S-Saturday. I've only had it once," I said.

"You've been poisoned," she informed me. "And it's not one I'm familiar with. Normally I would bring you to the hospital, but I am not sure that's wise."

"No," I agreed. "The fae, we don't... I can't be seen anywhere as being more than human," I pled.

She grunted.

"I need to get some additional supplies, possibly even blood, for a transfusion. Don't even think of balking."

"No ma'am."

"And we need to get you into a proper bed," she said.

I tried, and failed, to stand. I felt so weak. I was fading in and out again.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to call on Sookie another night." That was Gran.

"Let me pass, woman."

"I'm sorry young man, but the answer is no."

Why was Gran using her stern voice? Suddenly she was back in the room with us.

"There's a young man outside and he refuses to leave," she announced.

"Good, bring him in, he can carry her," Ludwig announced.

Suddenly I felt myself being lifted and I looked up into Eric's face and groaned.

"Stupid vampire. Now get out of the way," came Ludwig's voice. "Why nobody thought to call me days ago, I'll never know. Does your blood cure poison now? No? Fool!"

She was working over me, but I was practically too gone to care by that point. I don't know if Eric responded to her recriminations. I felt Gran beside me, momentarily, but she was shooed out of the way by the doctor too. That was when I started to seize. I couldn't tell you what happened after that.

I was almost surprised to wake up. Gran was hunched beside the bed in one of the chairs from my living room. She stirred as I did.

"Sookie," she said softly. Her cool hand was wrapped around my fingers and she gave me a gentle squeeze before releasing me. "Careful now," she warned.

"What happened?" I asked. My voice was a hoarse whisper. Gran had a glass of water on my bedside table and she helped lift it to my mouth, tipping so I could take a swallow.

"Your body went into shock, the doctor said."

"Am I going to be okay?" I whispered.

Gran responded by breaking down into tears and folding herself over my lap. I could tell from her head though, that her predominant emotions were relief and gratitude.

"The doctor's going to be back today to check on you," she told me, once she subsided.

"Was there a vampire here?" I asked, half-wondering if I'd imagined it, half-hoping that I had.

"Yes," Gran said, and I felt her stiffen.

"Can we talk about that later?" I asked.

"Yes, honey."

"You should get some sleep, Gran," I said.

"I will, Sookie," she assured me.

When I woke the next time, it was to my great grandfather's face. He was smiling down at me happily.

"There you are," he said in his sweet, slow voice, speaking every word so carefully. "You gave us quite a fright."

Niall is very beautiful. His lovely pale face was crinkled with joy. It's almost impossible for me not to feel pleased in his presence, and this was no exception. Despite that though, I felt a little nervous.

"Where's Gran?" I asked.

"She is resting," he told me.

"Where... where have you been? I have been trying to reach you."

"I am sorry that I could not come to you sooner. There has been some...turmoil...in our world of late. Now, there is a new prince of the water clan, and it would not have been safe for me to come to you before. But it seems that I have come in time."

"Am I dying?" I asked, though even as I did, I knew I wasn't. I could feel that I was healing. Just being near him was blessed succor to my ailments.

"No. The poison in your blood is an old one, but a known one. To us," he clarified. "As is the antidote. Tell me how you were attacked."

I didn't know quite where to begin, but off I babbled; telling him about the demons attacking in the vault, and here at the house, then finally about the hellhounds, and the fight at Mr. Herbahz's house.

"That is very interesting, and I am glad that you were able to defeat your demon enemies, but I meant to ask you when you were attacked by fairies."

"By a fairy?" I asked, confusedly. "I haven't been."

"But the poison in your blood was one of ours," he said. Even as he frowned, he was radiant. "It would have killed a fairy, but you survived long enough to be cured."

He bent and kissed my forehead then, and I felt that he was truly pleased about that; about my survival.

"I haven't been attacked by any fae," I said again.

"Hmmm," he said, with elegant noncommittal. "But you have also been attacked by a vampire," he said, brushing his fingers across my arm.

"Not...exactly. This is from Eric Northman. He nearly lost an arm fighting with Mintah and I... offered him some blood, so he could heal."

That too, required some explaining. I went back a whole week.

"You took his blood to heal your wounds," he said, skeptically. "You fed him willingly?"

"Yes," I said.

"Blood of my blood, it is dangerous to trust a vampire."

"I know."

"This one is not as bad as some."

"You know him?"

"I have known him for a long time," he said. "The lawyer has secured his silence in the matter of your abilities, but it would seem it is only a matter of time before there is even more to protect."

"Yes," I agreed.

"Do you wish me to end this problem now?" he asked.

I knew what he was asking. I shivered, for the first time in days, not because I felt cold. I didn't have an answer. Did I want him to kill Eric? And Pam too, I realized.

"No," I said. "I think that we have an understanding, for now."

"I grow more afraid that I will not be able to protect you," he said, sounding almost sad. I wasn't sure if he meant from the vampires, or the fairies, or what. Probably everything.

"Then it wouldn't hurt to have some extra allies," I hazarded. Could I call Eric an ally? I didn't know. After the last couple of days, I'd decided I didn't want to call him an enemy though.

He gave that some consideration, and finally nodded.

My great grandfather then smoothed his hand across my brow and then asked me to tell him about the interesting things I'd seen at work lately. This was a conversation we had often. I would tell him about what I'd seen, and he would tell me what he knew about the objects, or any stories, really, that came to mind.

When I had first met Niall, it was somewhat difficult for us to find common ground to talk about. He would listen with bemused indifference when I discussed mundane human things. His side of it all was usually stories about our family - the fairy side, of course. The discussion of objects and artifacts was far less one-sided. It was nice, to be able to talk.

"We had some great obsidian arrowheads last week, all mixed in with regular stone ones, found right around here. Can you just imagine some hunter coming across the elves standing over their kill?" I nearly smiled. I was still weak.

"You found elf-shot?" he asked.

I nodded. "I switched it out for flint. I think they're still at Splendide. They weren't even taken during the robbery."

"Is this where you got the cut on your finger?" he asked. I'd only told him that I had a cut, that had gotten infected – oh. Oh.

"Poisoned arrowheads?" I asked hesitantly.

He nodded.

"But they were so old! Eight hundred years, and the poison is still intact?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Perhaps this is part of the reason why you were affected so mildly," he said, with a delicate shrug of his shoulders.

I didn't object to his choice of words. I accepted the fact that compared to being dead, my reaction had been "mild."

"And this explains the wound you described," he went on. "Normally the body will act to try to isolate the poison, until it can be expelled."

I sighed. Blood blister. Poison blister, I guess.

"It did... but I think the poison was still making me feel ill. Then, when Eric healed me, it healed the blister, too..."

"And the poison was released into your system, where it has run its course for some nights," Niall agreed. "Great granddaughter, even some of our healers will use the blood of the vampire to mend grievous wounds, but you must be very cautious with it."

I nodded.

"Our methods are far more suitable," he continued. "Will you permit me?" he asked.

Before I could answer though, he hovered above my face. His mouth parted just over mine, very close, but not touching, and he breathed out. I inhaled. I felt more hale with every breath. As a human, I find this extremely bizarre. Every thought rebels against being within such intimate range of a great grandparent for an extended time. For the fairies, this gesture conveys the gift of well-being, healing both body and mind. I wouldn't refuse. It was a strange custom, to me, but I could not deny that I enjoyed the results.

"Dearest child, I am afraid that I must go for now. I will check in on you again soon, and should you need me, I will not be out of touch again, I hope."

"I'm grateful, great grandfather," I said. "Will you visit me for Christmas?" I asked.

"Yes, I will visit," he agreed.

I smiled. He vanished.

Very tentatively, I lifted myself from the bed and moved towards the bathroom. I was anticipating more pain and weakness, but I felt, at worst, run down. I checked my clock and saw that it was midmorning. I washed up a little bit, and changed my clothes. I still had the shadow of a bruise on my cheek, but it looked many days old, rather than fresh. I could probably conceal it with some makeup, were I so inclined. I wasn't though. I changed my clothes, putting on only a different pair of sweatpants and an LSU sweatshirt, fresh socks and underwear, and a tank top. No bra. I was not going anywhere today. I meant it.

Gran was asleep in the front bedroom, making it probably the third time it had been used, both ever and by her, since I'd moved in here. I have a daybed and a bookcase in there, a little table, and a lamp. Sometimes I read in there. The sun comes in nicely in the afternoons, but normally I don't go in there. It's just extra space.

I poured myself a small glass of juice and drank it with caution, waiting to see if my body would reject it. I was fine. I didn't bother making coffee, though. I didn't want to push my luck. I called Brenda.

"Brenda Hesterman," she answered.

"Sookie Stackhouse," I replied softly.

"Sookie! Are you okay?"

"I think I will be, but I won't be in today. I need to rest."

"I talked to Adele yesterday, she was out of her mind with worry."

"I saw Dr. Ludwig, and Niall came."

"What was wrong?"

"Poison, I guess. Actually, listen, do you remember those obsidian arrowheads from last week? We think it might have been them. I'm not sure if it would affect others the way it would um, people from my family, but you might want to put them up somewhere very safe, okay?"

"Sure. Listen, Upper Management had a meeting yesterday, about what we need to know regarding the police investigation..."

"Can you brief me properly a bit later? I don't plan on talking to the police, and if for some reason they talk to me, well, I've been sick, and as far as I know, nothing's happened in the last couple of days."

"Alright. That's more or less what we're going with anyway...but we are just going to resume normal business. Technically we are open today, but it's mostly client reassurance day. I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Okay, feel better Sookie."

"Thanks, Bren, take care."

Gran was stirring as I hung up with Brenda. I found I was actually a bit nervous to see her, but when she came out to the kitchen she simply hugged me tightly. It went on through and beyond that awkward point where a hug would end, and still she clutched me to her, expressing with that gesture the profundity of her love and affection for me, and her deep relief that I was well. I could only hug her back, for as long as she needed.

When that moment ended, she made me breakfast, and when breakfast was over, she took a rather enormous pot of beef stew out of my refrigerator and set it on the stove on warm heat. Then, we watched two of Eric's Viking documentaries, back to back.

"That young man is very handsome," she commented. We hadn't said a whole lot that morning; well, it was a bit after noon, by then.

"He's neither young, nor a man, but yes, I suppose he is handsome." I said.

"I bet he's interesting to talk to," she said.

"We haven't had a lot of chance to just sit and chat."

"He was very concerned for you last night."

"How long did he stay?"

"Not long. The doctor sent him away."

"I suppose that means he'll be back tonight," I said. Maybe sighed.

"Is he courting you?" she asked.

I snorted.

"He knows about my ability," I said.

"And what does he say about that?" she asked.

I made another very unladylike sound of derision, but when I looked at her it was plain on her face that she actually expected an answer.

"He's being paid by Niall and Mr. Cataliades not to tell the other vampires about me."

Because that had been my entire mental refrain on the subject of Eric since Niall had brought it up earlier.

"I see," she said.

"He's _interested_, he's kind of made that clear, but as to why? Well, I think it's just that he wants my favor, so I'll help him sometimes."

It was Gran's turn to tut.

"What?" I asked.

"I would think you had heard enough of men's minds to know that there ain't a one of them who don't want something from a woman."

"So?" I asked. She was right. Generally, it was sex. Sometimes money. Sometimes a mother for his children. Someone to cook for him. Someone to keep him company.

She didn't answer. Instead, she got up and stirred the stew, then put on the next DVD. She woke me up when it was over.

"If you sleep all day, you'll be up all night," she chided, handing me a small bowl of stew. It was heavenly.

After lunch, I dozed again while Gran watched "her stories," the melodramatic soap operas which she found preferable to the daytime talk shows. As we did so, she did more of my laundry, washing my sheets again, and the towels from my bathroom, the guest bathroom, the ones she'd slept on last night, the kitchen towels. Then she did my clothes. I tried to tell her that it was unnecessary, and she'd already done so much, but she wouldn't hear it. She said she enjoyed having the folding to keep her hands busy as she watched.

Ludwig came and went, cursing Niall and Eric for idiocy and cretinism, but seeming satisfied with the state of my health. She warned me to call her first if I should relapse a second time. With my permission, she took a small phial of my blood with her when she left, so that she might try to determine the cure for herself, for any future patients. Niall had not left a sample of the antidote.

It was hardly the same, really; what Gran had said about men wanting things from women. And she knew that it was always my fear - being used for my telepathy. Yes, he'd been fairly clear about the fact that he also wanted my body, and probably my blood. As far as he was concerned, I was quite the little package, I bet. Not that he wasn't. Being able to relax my mind around him was quite nice. Feeling desired without hearing the filthy thoughts that generally accompanied that was nice, too, even though the way he'd showed it had been more than a little terrifying at times.

His ability and willingness to kill things in defense of me was very good. I bristled when I had to admit that, but I could hardly deny that it was a fact about him that belonged in his "pro" column.

He was great at kissing, which boded well for other activities in that arena.

It still wasn't enough to make up for the fact that his trust had to be purchased, or otherwise bartered for.

He arrived not long after first dark.

I listened as Gran answered the door.

"Good evening Mrs. Stackhouse. I have come to see if Sookie is feeling better."

"She is," Gran answered.

"May I see her?" he asked, after a long pause. I permitted myself a smile.

"I'll see if she is up for visitors," Gran said, and then she closed the door on him.

Love you, Gran.

She retreated the few paces across the foyer and peeked around the wall, her expression questioning. I nodded to her. I combed my fingers haphazardly through my hair, not that it would do much good. Well, he'd seen me worse.

Gran let him in and a few moments later he was standing at the entry to my living room. His nostrils flared and I heard him inhale sharply just an instant before his fangs ran out.

Because my entire house reeked of fairy.


	15. Horse Vampires

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by primo superstar FiniteAnarchy.

Incidentally, she has just published** Dead Memories**, which is really intriguing right from the get-go. Our favorite barmaid stumbles upon the amnesiac viking pre-revelation. It'll be multi-chapter, and I'm very excited about what I've read already! Please give it a look!

* * *

Chapter 15 - Horse Vampires!

"Eric?"

He looked dazed.

"Eric."

I couldn't muster much of a commanding tone of voice, but he did snap to attention. Eventually. His eyes focused on me and his look was scrutinizing. I didn't feel up to that kind of inspection. Whatever was passing between us was interrupted by my ever cordial grandmother, coming to my rescue yet again.

"Go on in and sit down," she said amiably, giving Eric a friendly little nudge in the doorway, as if to say, 'We don't bite!'

"Can I get you a drink? Sookie?"

I cocked my head and couldn't prevent the manic smile which is my default expression in the face of the situational irony I am regularly exposed to as a telepath.

"Could I have hot cocoa?" I asked, brightly. "It's in the cabinet over the sink," I clarified. I wanted to ask for something that would take a couple of minutes, giving Eric a chance to finish calming down.

"Sure honey, and you?" Gran asked, pressing a hand lightly against Eric's back, so he'd have no mistake she was addressing him.

"No, thank you," Eric managed.

Gran tapped her temple lightly with her fingertips, indicating that she realized suddenly why he'd refused. It was a very genteel and ladylike version of a face palm. Then she gave Eric another pat and went off to putter in the kitchen. I listened for a moment and realized she was putting the kettle on to boil, which would give us a little extra time. Eric sat down in the chair nearest the door. He managed to retract his fangs after a moment.

"What brings you by?" I asked.

"I wished to know if all was well. You seem to have had many visitors today."

"Only a couple." I decided to ignore the fairy-scented gorilla in the room until he brought it up. "Did you see Mintah last night?"

"Yes."

"And were you richly rewarded for your good service?"

"You will be seeing some more of Tray Dawson. Caddo Security will be taking over the contract with Splendide."

I frowned. "You have vampires working for you too, right? Not just Weres?"

"Yes. There will be at least one vampire on duty during the hours of darkness, and Weres or shifters during the day."

I was not happy to hear that. I didn't like the idea of being overseen day and night by people who were beholden to Eric. I knew that vampires could make effective guards, but unlike humans, or even shapeshifters, I wouldn't be able to tell if their intentions weren't on the up and up. Unfortunately, it wasn't my call. I supposed Mintah had his reasons. He might have been obliged, but certainly wasn't obligated, to do Eric a good turn, giving him our business. I doubted he'd be taking any undo risks with security, and of course Mintah had his own ways of knowing people's true intentions.

"It is a good solution," Eric commented. I could only assume he'd identified my apprehension. "Most of the Weres are members of the local pack, and so that will appease Colonel Flood, as well."

"Great," I murmured.

"I will advise my people not to give you any undue attention, if that is your concern."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Don't mention me at all! That would be like telling people not to think about elephants."

"I do not understand. None of our employees shift into elephants."

I huffed out a sigh. "I swear you do that on purpose. It's..." I waved my hand around with agitation, trying to find the right words. "If someone says, 'don't think about elephants,' you can't help but think of them. If you tell people to ignore me, that will only call more attention to me."

"Attention will be unavoidable to some extent. You are mine," he remarked.

"Enough of that, please," I said. I was already tired of talking to him. This conversation was not going the way I'd hoped. Not that I had clear hopes, but I didn't want to be exasperated with him and that was really the only direction this was going.

"Enough of what?"

"Look, Eric. When you're the vampire with the sword standing between me and hulking demon, then fine, I'm _yours._ But you don't own me, and I don't like the idea of these people who I will see every day thinking you do."

"We have discussed this. My blood is in you. You _are_ mine."

"Stop bandying that word about. You know perfectly well that it means something different to humans."

"And you are not."

Gran chose that moment to return with a tray containing my cocoa and a cup of tea for herself, along with the tin of Christmas cookies. Eric and I glared at each other silently as she settled herself.

"Mr. Northman, Sookie and I so enjoyed the programs you sent over on the DVD. That must have been a very interesting project to work on."

Finally breaking our stare, Eric turned to my grandmother with a winning smile.

"It was interesting to see how such programs are made, yes. I had never worked in television before."

After that, Gran went ahead and asked Eric her many questions about the production of the documentary series. He'd gotten to travel back to Norway for parts of the filming, and Gran had exclaimed over getting the movie star treatment. I bit my tongue. I don't think too many movie stars travel in freight. I didn't want to spoil this for her though. She was delighted to be having a chat with a "celebrity." Gran still remembers when her family got their first television. Getting to talk to someone who had actually been _on it_ was a big deal to her.

I stayed mostly silent as Eric charmed my grandmother. Once they got around to the history part of things, it wasn't too much longer before Gran worked the conversation around to her particular sphere of interest.

"How long have you been in America?" she asked.

"Oh, Pam and I came over near the turn of the century."

When Gran looked confused, I clarified, "Pam is his child...his progeny."

"Oh, I see," murmured Gran, smiling faintly. I knew she could _not_ see, and I didn't really want her to. In order to make a vampire child of course, you must first kill the human. Gran knows this in the same way she "knows" about garlic and crucifixes, but she didn't quite connect what she knew of vampire lore to this creature so intriguing she'd let her tea go cold listening to him talk.

"I was wondering if you mightn't have been here during the War," she said. "The Civil War."

"Ah, no," Eric replied, managing to look rueful. "I have known some vampires who were, even one who was a soldier, but I was still in Europe at that time."

"That's too bad," said Gran, which earned her a wry look from both Eric and I. "Not too bad that you missed the war, obviously, but I wouldn't have minded picking your brain about it," she finished with a chortle. "Perhaps sometime you can introduce me to your friend."

"Ah, no. I don't think that's a great idea, Gran," I interjected and made a valiant attempt to shift the subject by asking if her club had a trip planned yet for the Spring.

Like many people in the South, my grandmother has a great interest in all things related to the Civil War. She even belongs to a club, the Descendants of the Glorious Dead, which meets weekly to discuss the history and takes semiannual trips to various battlefields. While it's true that there are some racist rednecks that laud the Confederacy and fly the Stars and Bars for the wrong reasons, Gran is not one of these. That is definitely a case of bad apples spoiling the bunch. Gran is simply intrigued by the era and the impact it had both on the national and local levels. Actually, it's fair to say that her love of history, albeit very specialized, inspired me to study as I did in school.

Gran began to talk about the planned trip to St. Louis, where the club would visit nearby Fort Davidson. Eric listened with apparent interest, even able to share some anecdotes about his own previous visits to that city, but his eyes kept coming back to me. I appreciated that he was being polite to her even while it was obvious we had more to discuss in private. I wasn't entirely certain why he was doing it. I supposed it was just possible that such a humdrum conversation was an enjoyable break from his usual discourse; which I assumed consisted almost entirely of vampire protocols and general scheming. Maybe it was simply in his nature to ingratiate himself, at least when it would put him at an advantage.

I realized as I had before with Eric that it was probably both. It unnerved me that I always had to question why he was doing things, that he was never entirely straightforward. Is it just his basic nature to be shifty and guileful. Foxy. Yeah. I'd lost track of what Gran was saying and smirked to myself as I had the thought. Eric was definitely foxy.

A knock on the door interrupted everyone then, and Gran excused herself to answer it. I already knew who it was. Eric seemed to as well.

"What has you so amused?" Eric asked. I heard my grandmother greeting Mintah in the foyer.

I smirked at him and shook my head. Eric stood as Mintah entered, and greeted him with the compulsory nod, before coming to sit beside me on the couch. I didn't make to stand, giving a nod of my own as well. Mintah looked me over carefully before taking the seat Eric had just vacated, at my grandmother's suggestion.

Gran had met Mintah only once before and very briefly, but she was evidently enjoying her hostessing duties tonight. She welcomed him and offered him refreshment, just as she'd done for Eric. When he refused, she cleared away her tea things and excused herself to wash up, reasoning that my employer might have some business to discuss with me.

Mintah had a large case with him that I recognized instantly once he set it down on the freshly cleared coffee table. His maimed hand was covered by the neatly tucked sleeve of his shirt. His movements were perhaps more deliberate than I had seen them in the past, but he wasn't visibly struggling with the pain of his injury, which had to be enormous. I'm pretty sure the denizens of Hell had never contrived such a thing as a painkiller. Mintah was tough as nails.

"I am pleased to see that you are well, Miss Stackhouse," he began.

"Yes," I agreed. "It was a near thing."

"And not related to our...outing, the other night, I understand."

"No," I said. "A rare poison, from an arrowhead I looked at last week."

"I am sorry that you were injured in the course of your normal work then. I understand that you saw a doctor?"

I nodded.

"Then you'll forward the bill to our main office, of course."

"Thank you," I agreed. I hadn't gotten the details on Dr. Ludwig's bill, but I was sure there'd be one.

"I will be returning home tomorrow," Mintah said.

I nodded again.

"There will be some new security procedures in place that I am sure Ms. Hesterman will go over with you. And I am sure Mr. Northman has informed you, we will be starting up with the new security guards."

"He mentioned it. I'm not sure how our human clientèle will respond to the presence of vampire guards," I said flatly.

"I am certain Ms. Hesterman will inform us if there are complaints," Mintah said coolly.

I grinned at that. I imagined that Brenda had been even less tactful than I about voicing objection to the regular presence of vampires at Splendide, even if they would be working alongside Weres.

"What's happening with the police investigation?" I asked.

"Ah, yes. Well, with the assistance of Mr. Northman, Kenneth Glassport has been compelled to confess his crimes, and the involvement of his uncle and cousins. I believe Julian Herbahz is now a wanted man. It is very convenient for us in this respect that Haagenti fostered a human identity."

"Yes," I agreed. I was thinking of Chip Young. I was very glad that his name would be cleared with the police. "What will happen to Kenneth, will he go free?"

"Apparently not," Mintah said, with a cold smile. "I had heard he would be held without bail. He is considered a 'flight risk.'"

"I suppose that's good then," I said.

"It is quite neat," my employer said. He seemed content. "Now. There is a final small matter. You are aware that we recovered a number of possessions belonging to Haagenti before his house was burned..."

I gasped. "You burned that beautiful old house?"

"It was a necessity," Mintah said indifferently. "And of course, this only encourages the story that a Julian Herbahz has fled, destroying all evidence behind him."

I deflated slightly, but still found myself regretting the loss.

"Regardless," Mintah continued. "Mr. Northman, you expressed adamant curiosity about the vampire artifacts that Mr. Glassport mentioned when we spoke last night. I have them here, and will be pleased to award them to you in thanks for the service you have done me..."

Eric looked satisfied and at Mintah's gesture, he reached forward to open the case. I felt totally vindicated once he saw the complete set. His eyes actually widened in surprise and he blinked, before a greedy smile spread across his face. It probably topped my gushing, by the standards of vampire reactions.

"With the exception of the two knives, which I am giving to Ms. Stackhouse."

I blinked. "Really?" I asked.

"Yes," Mintah agreed. "The silver, in particular, but they will make a nice set."

Eric looked slightly less pleased to hear this news, but wisely chose not to complain.

"Miss Stackhouse will be able to provide you with the documentation of authenticity. I am told all pieces have already been tested."

"I never quite finished the analysis, but yes, I can," I agreed.

Mintah stood abruptly.

"Very well then. I will be off for the night. Miss Stackhouse, do take care."

I heard him say goodnight to Gran as he saw himself out. She had busied herself with a book at my kitchen table.

Before the front door closed, Eric had shifted both the coffee table and the case closer to us so that we could have a better look at everything. Well, so he could. I'd already seen it all. Gran came back in and asked us if we needed anything, but both of us said no, barely looking up from the objects. I heard her decide that we were fine to sit unchaperoned and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She was aware that she was being "old fashioned," but in her mind, there was simply a way things were done.

Eric felt compelled to handle and examine everything, with the exception of the silver knife. The proper, unenchanted chainmail glove had been included in the set, and it was indeed too small for his large hand. He didn't hesitate to touch anything. I was slightly appalled. I didn't have enough knowledge of vampire physiology to know whether or not they secrete the normal oils through the skin that humans do. I thought that they must, I mean otherwise their skin would dry out, and plus, Eric smelled. Not in a bad way. Eric actually smelled really nice. Partly it was his cologne at the moment, I realized. Either way, just the normal smell of a person; vampires have that. It was strong evidence in favor of the fact that Eric should be wearing protective cotton gloves to prevent transference to these valuable items.

He handed me the gold knife after he had inspected it. I pulled my sleeve down over my hand and took it gingerly, placing it down on the table. He gave me a queer look.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What are _you_ doing?" I responded.

"I am examining our spoils."

"You should be wearing gloves!"

"Why? These things are meant to be used."

"To preserve them."

"What is the point of preserving them, if you never intend to use them?"

"You can use them on a special occasion, not just poking around with things," I said indignantly, brazenly poking him in the arm three times to emphasize my point. He caught my hand quickly but let it go after a moment.

"I intend to make use of all of these things. This is a rare gift."

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"Do you know what all of this is for? Here, give me back the knife," Eric asked, holding his hand out. I appreciated the fact that he didn't just lean across me, so I handed it back to him.

"I don't know much about your rituals. The stake and the silver knife are for punishments, obviously. The chalice and the golden knife are for things like alliances and weddings and formal contracts. The censer, I don't know. General ritual, I suppose."

"It is for blood," he said simply. "The dissolution of these pacts and bonds you mentioned. It is burned."

"Huh," I said. That was interesting. "I suppose I should get some sort of case to hold the knives."

"I suppose," he agreed. "Since you are not going to use them. Would you like me to hold on to them for safekeeping?"

"Will I get them back?" I asked sweetly.

"Are you suggesting that I would attempt to swindle you?" He was grinning a little too, though he let faux indignation to color his tone.

"Are you suggesting that you wouldn't?" I smiled.

"I am a far cry from a petty thief," he said after a moment. This time he sounded offended in a truer sense.

I sighed. "I didn't say that. You're just... _you_, and a vampire, and for goodness sake. Yes, by all means keep the daggers until I can order a proper case to store them in."

I folded my hands into my lap, feeling terribly awkward. I shouldn't have any reservations about what I'd just said. Being hesitant to trust a vampire was just good sense. I searched for anything I could say that would be more positive.

"Thank you for indulging Gran," I said softly. I was quite sure she couldn't hear us anyway. "It was kind of you."

"She is a pleasant woman," he said. He took my hand then. I'd been running my fingers of my other hand over the knuckles in a fidgety sort of way. He replaced them with his own, brushing featherlight strokes across the skin. I enjoyed the sensation for a moment, though it did little to dispel my nervous energy. "Who was your fairy visitor?" he asked.

I exhaled.

"That would be my great grandfather."

His hand stilled, his grip on my fingers tightened; not hurting, just firm.

"Not your grandmother's father," he said. He would have known immediately if my grandmother was a half-fairy, but she was all human.

"No," I said very quietly. Eric would hear me perfectly. "He had a half-fairy son, who was my biological grandfather. This is not something you will ever mention in Gran's presence." I managed to finish firmly.

After a moment he lifted my hand to his face, turning my wrist out and inhaling deeply along the pulse point.

"Ah," he said, not sounding terribly surprised. It must have been on his short list of possibilities. "But surely there are many humans who can claim fairy ancestry."

"Maybe so," I said.

"Why would you conceal yours? Who was your grandfather?"

He was nuzzling my wrist and my palm now, seeming to delight in the warmth and softness of my skin. This was preferable to anything aggressive, so I let him have at it, but I didn't answer him. It took a couple of minutes before he realized that, and ceased his movement. He looked at me questioningly.

"Fintan Brigant."

He dropped my hand. I pulled it back to me.

"Fintan Brigant," he repeated. I nodded once.

"You are the great granddaughter of Prince Niall Brigant of the Sky Clan," he said flatly.

I nodded again. He sat back against the couch and stared at me. So much for that fleeting moment of feeling passably normal.

I leaned forward and busied my hands pulling my sleeve back over one again and making tiny adjustments to the tools in their case then closing it.

When he persisted in saying nothing I said, "We can pay you more now, if this is necessary. Obviously it's very important that no one knows this. My great grandfather's enemies, they... well, they'd just love to get their hands on me. To hurt him. Oh, and because I am an abomination. I know you know Niall, and you'd probably recognize his scent, the next time you saw him. Even when he's blocking it from you while he's there, it stays in the air after he goes...I figured it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. So just... well you can name your price, really...I mean, you can keep the knives if you want, though you will probably want to just add to your regular arrangement with Cataliades too..."

"Stop talking," he said, interrupting my babble.

He sat for what felt like long minutes. I could feel him staring at me, but I couldn't make myself look at him again. I finally did when I felt him stand up.

"I am due to be at Fangtasia tonight."

"Alright."

I stood up at the same time, for the first time all afternoon, really. I don't know why. It was polite, yes, but maybe I'd already become accustomed to his little goodbye gestures. That was asinine. Standing up for a hug from your vampire? I didn't get one, regardless.

"I'll see you another night, Sookie," was all he said, and then he was gone. I heard the front door close before I'd quite registered that he'd left the room and a moment after that, I heard his car turn on and drive away.

I went and found Gran in the kitchen. She set her book down as I entered. It was a romance. The cover model could have been Eric's tan cousin.

"Did your friend leave?" she asked judiciously.

"Yeah," I said, sitting down. "He had to go to work."

It was a little late for supper, but that didn't prevent her from serving us each up another small bowl of stew, along with some crackers. It was hearty and warm and chock full of vegetables. She had definitely gone to the grocery store at some point while I was passed out the day before.

After dinner we found an old Marilyn Monroe movie to watch, all about mix-ups and unrepentant gold-digging. I couldn't hide my disapproval, to Gran's great amusement throughout.

"It's just a movie, honey," she said, as the credits started to roll. I was irritated.

"He only wanted her because she's beautiful, and she only wanted him for his money, and they both just accept that? It's awful!"

She just chuckled again. She'd enjoyed the musical numbers and the whole comedy of errors. It was certainly not a film designed to send a message. It just happened to hit a little close to home; if you switched out beauty and wealth for fighting skills and telepathy.

"What did Mr. Mintah bring earlier?" she asked, indicating the case that Eric had left behind in his haste to get away from me.

"Some things for Eric," I said vaguely. I neither wanted to explain the objects, nor revisit the subject of Eric's abrupt departure.

"It was nice of him to come and visit," she said agreeably, moving towards the hall as we shut the lights in the front of the house.

She was thinking that Eric had left his parcel behind on purpose, so he'd have an excuse to call on me again. We said goodnight, and I headed back to the bathroom to brush and wash before bed. I couldn't help but hear her as she moved around doing much the same.

Gran was genuinely regarding Eric as a suitor of mine, something which hadn't fully occurred to me earlier. She'd found him quite polite and interesting. The fact that he was a vampire didn't bother her terribly, which just went to show what a commendable job I'd done keeping my human family separate from the supernatural world. In her eyes, he was just a little different, but then again, so was I. She'd evidently resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn't be getting any great-grandbabies from me quite a while ago. That stung a bit.

I lay awake for a long while after she'd gone to sleep. I wasn't truly worried that Eric would run out tonight sell my secrets, at least no more than I was when he only knew one of them. It was actually less likely, since he now knew exactly what he'd be messing with. I wasn't being overconfident there; the connection to Niall _would_ give him pause. The fact that he'd left everything that Mintah had gifted him was also a positive indicator. Vampires are not absent minded or forgetful. He'd return at some point to collect them, and we'd need to be on good terms for that. Unless he planned on just breaking in to retrieve them, which he could easily do. He's been so offended at the notion of petty thievery, but then again that set was anything but trivial...

I slammed my fists down against the mattress. I was more worked up than I'd been before I'd lain down. I pushed up my mental shields, making them as strong as they could be. It was a bit like clenching a muscle and holding and holding it. It exhausted me, and it cleared my mind. Eventually, I slept.

I awoke with vague questions about why gentlemen might prefer telepaths, but other than that I felt pretty normal which, considering the last week or so, was wonderful. I stretched. I could hear (with my ears) that Gran was already up and about. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was after ten. I took a few minutes to dress and pull my hair back into a loose ponytail.

"Good morning," Gran called over her shoulder, as I entered the kitchen. Not only were there fresh muffins, but she was putting the finishing touching on what appeared to be a chicken pot pie. She'd been up for hours.

"Gran, if you keep this up, I'm not going to let you go home," I murmured, helping myself to a cup of hot coffee.

"I'm heading out in just a minute," she said. "I have some things to catch up on at the house this afternoon, and there's a Descendants meeting tonight that I don't want to miss."

She wrapped the uncooked pie loosely in tin foil and set it on a plate and popped it in the fridge. "You'll cook that at three fifty for an hour," she told me, before she began straightening up the kitchen. It didn't take her very long. Gran is a clean-as-you-go sort of cook.

She came over to me and nudged my chin up with her thumb so I could look up at her. She checked my temperature with the back of her hand, checked the glands below my ears for swelling, and when she judged me to be in good health she bent and kissed me lightly on the forehead. It was an old ritual, a childhood ritual. It was terribly comforting. I rose to my feet and gave her a tight hug which she ended first with a gentle patting on my back. It seemed that yesterday was the day for emotion, and today was all business.

"Gran, I don't know how to thank you for everything."

"Nonsense, I'm just glad you're well," she said. Her voice was dismissive, but I knew she was truly grateful.

She told me not to come for dinner the following day, but to stay home and rest, and it wasn't fifteen more minutes before she was out the door and headed home to Bon Temps.

I found myself with little to do. I keep good house generally, and Gran hadn't left me with much to busy myself. I spent about thirty minutes wiping down my bathroom as I chuckled along to Cartalk on Public Radio. I checked my email and browsed around on some of the websites who had sent me Holiday Sale alerts. It was coming down to the wire to have anything delivered in time for Christmas. I spent about an hour putting together a custom "Tower of Treats" for Mr. Cataliades, full of all sorts of candies, fruits, nuts, and snacks, and then enrolled him for twelve months' worth of smaller deliveries, to be sent to his law office. Things like that often sound impersonal, but Mr. C is a man who enjoys good food. I figured he'd like it just fine.

While I was shopping, I picked out necklaces for Gladiola and Diantha. They were on sale, so they weren't too expensive. They were nice, and I wanted to give them each something. I found one for Brenda, too.

I had an email from Holly which contained a summary of the meeting I'd missed, minus the security specifics, which Brenda would cover with me on Monday. At the bottom she noted that for Christmas "we" had decided to do a gift card grab-bag. Everyone buys a twenty-five dollar gift card to "somewhere fun", and then we all blindly choose a different one. That sounded okay. It was easier than trying to organize a Secret Santa. I shot her back a note telling her to count me in, and made a note to stop by Ralph & Kacoo's next week to pick up a card.

The mail had arrived while I was on the computer, so I pulled on a sweater and went out to get it. It turned out that I had three Christmas cards to show for my little jaunt. One was from Gran's friend Maxine Fortenberry, and one was from Holly. It was sweet of her to mail one out to me when she could have just handed it to me at work. She'd used stamps depicting boughs of holly, and my name was scrawled in crayon across the back of the envelope. Her son had helped with the addressing. The last was from Pam, which surprised me. Since she lived here in town I knew she'd only sent it a couple of days ago. The drawing on the front was of a fangbanger standing under some mistletoe. Santa the Vampire was biting her neck. On the inside was printed, "Christmas Sucks." She'd simply signed "Pam." I smiled.

I decided to tape the cards to my kitchen cabinets. V_oilà_, Christmas decorations. After that, I really did have nothing to do, so I curled up on the couch and read for the rest of the afternoon. I made my dinner in the evening as per Gran's instructions, watched a little television as I ate, and went to bed early.

Sunday was much the same. I had no visitors, and no phone calls, no mysteries and no emergencies. It was very normal, very quiet, and very... I wanted to say peaceful, but honestly, it was boring. Earlier in the afternoon I'd gotten sick of looking at the case full of vampire implements and went and hid it under the bed in the front bedroom. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Wrong.

I got to work early on Monday morning to find that while Mintah had departed, Ghellert had elected to stay on for a couple of weeks in order to transition the new security company. He was out front when I arrived and I smiled at him and asked after his brothers.

"They are already healed. It was nothing," he told me. "But I am told that you were sick."

"Sick and well again," I said with a tiny smile.

"Go inside out of the cold," he instructed. It was coat weather, but it wasn't _that_ chilly out.

"I just wanted to thank you, all of you really, but since the others have left, maybe you will pass along the message? You saved me from something pretty serious, and I am truly grateful," I said sincerely.

Ghellert gave me a slow nod. "You are welcome."

He moved and held the door open for me then, and I followed his urging to get into the warmth. My morning was full of new security protocols. I had a new entry code to the vault, and the locks on the lab had also been upgraded. There were some additional cameras placed, very subtly. Brenda pointed them out to me and started talking about the live stream and the recordings and how the data was saved and all sorts.

"And the wards have been reinforced, and improved," she said in a hushed voice.

I nodded. That had been Mr. Hob's work.

Unsurprisingly, we didn't have anything new. I settled in to the work I'd pushed back in favor of the Herbahz debacle. Would Eric still want me to complete the authenticity documents? I put the thought out of my head and focused on trying to discover the provenance of some small ceramics. I'd estimated them to be about 1100 years old, but from there, it was a matter of comparing the glaze and the clay composition to existing records. Lots of looking at pictures in books and online databases. This was pretty standard stuff for me; human pottery. This was the return to my routine.

There was another mandatory staff meeting at six o'clock, so that all of our employees could meet our three new vampire guards, and so they could meet us. One of the three I recognized as the ancient female I'd seen at Fangtasia, and her name was familiar too - Thalia. She was very unfriendly, which was fine, really. The others were called Gerald and Anthony. Of the two, Anthony was the friendlier, and he was the only one of the three to have a last name, which was Bolivar. Each of them gave me "the nod" as we were introduced. That was really the extent of it. There were new day guards too, but we'd all meet them during normal working hours.

Ghellert followed me silently to my car as I left. I gave him a smile and a little wave as I drove off. I'd miss him when he left. I went home and had dinner and read, and went to sleep. The rest of the week went like that, with the exception of a shopping trip on Wednesday night. I picked up the restaurant gift card for the grab-bag. I also found a handsome pocketwatch for Niall. It told the date as well as the time, and had a tiny window that showed the moon and the sun. I knew that he would say he liked it no matter what, but I hoped he would genuinely find it a good gift. It would always tell him _when_ it was, where I was, regardless of where he was.

It wasn't until the following Friday evening that I arrived home to a guest. Pam was in a plunging halter dress slit up to the thigh with tall patent leather boots nearly as high.

"Evening Pam," I said, coming up to the porch.

"Hello Sookie," she said, standing up.

I hadn't been to the store. I'd been living happily off of leftovers and frozen dinners all week, so I didn't have anything to offer her, but I invited her in just the same. She followed me in silently and sat down at the table. I went back to tend to some of my human needs and hung my coat and purse. I asked her how she'd been when I rejoined her. She stressed that _she'd_ been fine as I popped a Lean Cuisine in the microwave and poured myself a glass of water.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you a blood," I said apologetically.

She smacked her hand down on the table in irritation. "I am not here for your bottled blood." Her sudden outburst startled me.

"Al-right," I said hesitantly. "Then why are you here?"

"What have you done to my maker?" she demanded.

"Pardon me?" I asked. My hand had shot up to my chest, over the pendant I still wore under my shirt. It hadn't twitched. She was annoyed, but not planning to act on that.

"Eric has not been himself since he returned from your house last week. I understood that you had made a full recovery, yet he has remained distracted and moody. The weekend nights are our busiest. We have all of this stupid holiday merchandise to offload, and it is the time to push for attendance at the New Year's Eve party. I need him functioning and 'on,' not sitting listlessly in a booth all night!"

"Um."

"Well?" she demanded.

"What did he tell you?"

"He has told me nothing. 'The telepath is well,'" she quoted, in a passable imitation of Eric's subtle accent, before continuing, "And then into his office practically the whole night."

I sighed. "I didn't _do_ anything to him, Pam. I suppose he's just...deciding."

"Deciding what?"

"Whether to kill me or ransom me or who knows what. You know better than I what he's capable of."

She narrowed her eyes at me. I stared right back, but I broke first.

"He left here saying he'd see me another night. He found out... He found out something about me that I guess he didn't like, and then he left. You've probably got a much better idea of what he's thinking than I do."

"Tell me."

I sighed. It had gone _so well_ when I confessed before.

"He has already commanded me not to speak of you to anyone," she said firmly.

Do vampires lie about maker commands like that?

Screw it.

"My great grandfather is Niall Brigant," I said with slow resignation.

"Suck a witch's tit!" she gasped, all disbelief.


	16. Dust, Straw, and Vampires

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, whose praises I cannot grow tired of singing.

It seems that I have some new readers this week - hi folks! I wanted to say thank you to Seastarr08 and Moxiemo (and FA again) for saying kind things on their blogs. I'm so glad everyone's enjoying. I really am kind of crap about prompt replies to messages and reviews, but suffice to say, I am feeling the love and it's very encouraging.

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Chapter 16 - Dust, Straw, and Vampires

"So not only are you telepath, you're a fairy princess," Pam snickered. "That's priceless."

"I'm not a fairy princess. I'm a mostly-human who happens to be related to a fairy prince."

"As you say, my Lady," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Shut it, Pam," I gritted out.

She finished her chuckle and made a bit of a show of composing herself, lifting her shoulders with the breathing out of a soft sigh.

"So all this time there has been a family of fairy royals living in Eric's area," she mused.

"No," I stressed. "It's only me who has the, you know...well, do you know? The spark? My brother is just normal, and my dad and aunt were too."

"But delicious, I'm sure."

"Thanks Pam, that makes me feel heaps better about confiding in you," I said with annoyance.

"You smell delicious. That's hardly _my_ fault. Eric said you tasted wonderful that first night," she sounded almost wistful. "A fairy. Mmm. It's been years."

She looked at me hungrily, but not threateningly. I felt like a slice of cake in front of a girl resolved to diet. Not that Pam would need to diet. She was slim and petite for all eternity.

"Cut it out," I said. "So now that you know the worst, why do you think he's all moody, as you say?"

"I suppose he's trying to figure out what to do with you."

I slumped back in my chair. The timer for my dinner had run out, but I was not feeling hungry anymore. I'd opened the door to the microwave and snapped it shut again, leaving my chicken and rice to cool inside.

"He would give us a chance to meet his price, wouldn't he? I mean through Niall he could have practically anything material that he asked for."

She gave me a sharp look.

"I mean, it's just better for everyone if I stay alive...me especially. Surely Eric will realize that. I told him he could have whatever he wanted."

Eric had to realize that it could start a war. That's not me talking up my own importance. These people, these groups, were like open powder kegs just waiting for a spark. And here's me, all sparky. The two fairy clans against each other, or the fairies together versus the vampires. Nothing unites enemies like a common foe. That would be bad for everyone. He had to see that, right?

"You didn't say that."

"Of course I did. He needs to know we would match anything he would get from others."

"It didn't occur to you that you were insulting him?"

"It's just another business arrangement," I said defensively. "He had no objections before."

"Why should he object to taking money for something he was going to do anyway?" she asked.

"So it's as you said, he is like this because he doesn't know which way to leap."

She made another little noise of irritation, but I ignored her. I got what she'd actually said; that Eric had no intention of handing me over to their queen. That was good, but Eric had also made it plain that he wanted me to work for him here. It's not like he should be in line for the tin medal of selflessness or something.

"I'm sure you realize that a vampire as old as Eric isn't often surprised," Pam said. The way she said it really made Eric sound like an eminent figure. I found I was interested to hear whatever she'd be willing to share about him.

"Pam, may I ask you a question about Eric?"

"You may ask," she said levelly.

"What is his deal? He's so old, and incredibly strong. I mean, how he took down Haagenti... Why is someone like that content to just manage Northern Louisiana? Shouldn't he have a whole kingdom of his own?"

"He has no desire to rule," she said simply. It seemed like an answer she'd given many times before.

"Yes, but why? He strikes me as someone who'd take any opportunity to forward his position."

She considered her answer for a long moment before she gave it.

"He is comfortable here. Eric does love having power, but that does not mean he loves politics. He has authority here, and he is a good Sheriff. He must answer to Sophie-Anne, true, but she is at the other end of the state, and mostly leaves him to his own devices."

I suppose if you're a vampire who just wants to stay in one place, a position like Sheriff beneath an undemanding monarch was pretty much the best you could hope for, from the standpoint of retaining a semblance of freedom. Any higher in the food chain and you'd be bogged down by politics and a whole spate of larger concerns. Any lower and you'd risk being stuck beholden to someone who might not be considered "a good Sheriff." What I took from what Pam told me, was that Eric just wanted to be able to live his own un-life, as much as he could. Huh. I guess we had more in common than just our hair color.

"Eric has said that you will read minds for us for non-trivial matters, is that correct?"

I'd been distracted again, but that was a hard line of questioning to ignore.

"Yes..." I answered, with a pinch of uncertainty and a dollop of sullenness.

"There's a situation that could benefit from your attention, if you're willing."

"Go on," I gestured.

"Eric said that when you went to the nail salon, you couldn't get any information out of the girl who waited on me."

"Right. She barely remembered you."

"But she should have done. We spoke. She had lovely hands, so warm. I paid her the compliment."

"You didn't glamour her?"

"No."

"Well, someone had. I can sort of see it, like their minds know what they want to recall, but when they go to think it, there's nothing there."

"Fascinating. But you see, I didn't glamour her, and someone did... In addition, I was groomed and tended to while I was being held. I can only assume that too, was her doing. It's clear another vampire was involved with the witches."

"So you've got a traitor in your midst?"

She looked at me thoughtfully.

"That sounds very melodramatic. Eric has said you have an impressive knowledge of the supernatural world, for a human. I suppose we now know why," she quipped, rolling her eyes. "Regardless, call it treachery if you will. Among ourselves, we might simply call it competition. However, I _am_ loyal to Eric. I am here at his request as his Lieutenant."

"So, who's behind you in the pecking order?"

"Long Shadow is the other part owner of the bar..."

"And does that dictate the chain of command?"

"I suppose to an extent. Day to day, yes."

I understood from what she'd said that normally, at the bar that served as Shreveport Vamp HQ, Long Shadow was considered third behind Pam. In other endeavors throughout their fiefdom, Eric didn't formally have a third-in-command. That seemed like a good way to run things. Keeping a small governance allows you to put the best person in charge of any given job, without having to worry about being beholden to their various ranks or positions. When that job is done, that's it. I had a passing moment of approval for Eric's management style.

Pam was still watching me as I shook my head to break away from my mental tangent. If Eric didn't keep a ranking order all the way down, then it made sense that someone wanting to advance could only go directly for Pam.

"Or Eric himself," I murmured, finishing the thought.

"What?" Pam demanded.

"Well if someone is looking to move up through the ranks, and the ranks only consist of you and Eric, then maybe you're both at risk. Has anything strange happened to him lately?"

"_You_ are the only strange thing that has happened to Eric lately."

"Uh-huh," I said, breezing right over that. "Well I assure you, I'm not after his job."

"Not that you don't put him at risk for losing it," she said coolly. Now who's on her own tangent?

I squinted at her. She gave me a look that dared me to try to argue that. It wasn't worth it.

"His choice," I shrugged.

"Not anymore, now that he knows what he knows about you."

"It's the same choice it's always been. The only difference today is that he can better guess the magnitude of the repercussions."

"Perhaps you should have told him all of this at the beginning."

"Maybe," I said absently. "But I didn't know him at all then. I barely know him now. It seems like he is at least a man of his word, but maybe I shouldn't have told him at all."

Maybe I should have just run months ago, the night I'd had my slip and let him know I was anything more than a regular blood bag with a handy knowledge of antiques. And where would that have left me? Even farther away from home and more well hidden. Yeah. I could probably rent a room in some distant corner of the world, and never ever leave it, and never talk to Gran or Jason again, and I'd be perfectly safe from all the supes. But what would be the point of being alive at all if I didn't have a life?

"You and Eric will have to work out whatever is going on between you and Eric," Pam said, again interrupting my weighty thoughts. "Regardless, my suggestion is this: We discover who is behind the attack on me, and by extension, Eric. In doing so you will further prove your worth to him being here and intact. I will have the chance to avenge myself on the vampire to blame for my abduction, and Eric will have a threat to the stability of his area quelled. A stable and strong Eric is useful to you, if he is serving as something like your protector here. I believe this is what you humans call a win/win/win."

"Very neat," I agreed. "So, you want me to go and talk to Jack and Diane again, I take it."

"That would pose a problem," Pam said. "Their memories of us, of vampires in general, are...extremely limited. The same for the others in Jack's coven."

"I see. And by extremely limited, you mean..."

"Nonexistent."

"Great foresight there." I didn't bother hiding my scorn. This was a really touchy subject for me. I had figured that this is what had happened to each of them; a very extensive memory wipe. I hated that I had to be grateful for it.

"What's done is done," Pam snapped.

"Then how do you propose we find the culprit? I don't think you guys believe me when I insist I can't read vampire minds, but it's true."

"Well, the obvious first step would be for you to come to Fangtasia. One weekend night is obligatory for the vampires in the area, so between tonight and tomorrow, practically everyone will be there at least for a little while. You can see which humans they choose to spend time with, and determine whether or not there are any bad thoughts towards either Eric or myself."

"So I just sit there for hours, scanning the brains of the human companions while what, you and Eric try to incite them to nasty thoughts? That's a terrible idea. I don't even know what to do with myself in a bar."

"No, it's very good," she argued.

"Eric has specifically said it's unwise for me to be around other vampires any more than I have to." That was my last ditch attempt to dissuade her.

"You won't be. Not really anyway. I have a smart plan."

I listened as she explained everything, struggling to keep the skeptical look off my face.

"And Eric knows about this?" I asked when she was finished.

"I will tell him as soon as you arrive." _Great._

"I guess we can try it," I finally agreed.

"Good. Go get dressed. We need to be there by eight fifteen. Do you have something suitable?"

"Yeah, I think I have just the thing."

Twenty minutes later I emerged from my bedroom, heavily perfumed and atrociously made up. I was dressed in my baggy red-and-green reindeer sweater with a pair of pleated khaki pants and white sneakers. The pants were both unflattering and unfashionable. I'd gotten them on clearance some time last year and I couldn't return them. This would be the first time I wore them out of the house. I had my hair pulled back in a loose bun.

I struck a pose in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh my gosh, ma'am! I never met a real live vampire before," I drawled, making my face look astonished.

A wide grin spread across her face. Pam's plan was to sneak me in with a group of tourists that would be arriving at Fangtasia by bus. Insulated by what she had termed "the most obnoxious humans," I would be repellent to vampires. The garish makeup and strong perfume would help with that too. Vampires have keen eyesight, but they're also heavily reliant on touch, taste, and smell. Contrary to what a lot of fangbangers believe, they are not interested in the texture, taste, or aroma of heavy pancake makeup and cheap eyeshadow. Much like my brother Jason though, many vampires wouldn't pass up a free meal.

Regardless, I was presenting myself in the worst possible light for attracting vamps, which was perfect.

We would drive separately, and I'd wait in the main parking area and then blend in with the rest of the tourists when the bus arrived. She'd be going ahead so that she could position herself at the door, making her the one who would be checking IDs. Once we were in and seated at one of the tables, she'd relieve herself of door duty, and fill Eric in.

Then, they'd start making the rounds of the tables, checking in with all the vampires in attendance. I'd screen any humans those vampires were with, looking for negative thoughts about Eric and Pam, while they gauged the reactions of the vampires. At the end of the night, we'd compare notes and move forward with any leads.

I grabbed my purse but Pam shook her head and dashed out the door. She returned a moment later carrying a thick black fanny-pack and a digital camera on a neck strap.

"I guess you'd have an inkling I'd agree to this," I said, fastening the belt around me, and shifting it to a jaunty angle across my hip.

"I thought you would see reason," she agreed matter-of-factly. "You like Eric. You want to help him."

I pulled the camera around my neck and slipped my keys and wallet into the pack.

"I'd certainly prefer to be in his good books, anyway. How do I look?"

"It's perfect," she said, with something bordering on awe. "I can't believe you own that sweater. I had something else in the car in case you had nothing suitable, but _that_ is truly ghastly."

"Says the woman wearing thigh high patent leather stilettos."

"_A fair point_," she conceded with a smirk, hiking up her skirt a little and pulling at the tops of the boots. "We'd better go. Oh, and take these," she said, handing me a pair of fangs. They were the plastic kind that you slip over your teeth; the ones that cost a quarter at a Halloween store.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Seriously," she said wearily. "They give them out on the bus."

I tucked the fangs into my fanny-pack. I had no plans to wear them. I followed her to Fangtasia, happy to note that she obeyed all the traffic rules and always used her blinker. She was a very good driver. I'd been too tired to notice when we'd ridden with her before. She pulled around into the employee parking lot and I found my own spot. It was a bit before eight and the bus was nowhere in sight. There was a short line of black-clad young people by the entrance already. Actually plenty of them were probably close to my age, but for the purposes of this evening's skullduggery I'd be pretending to be a lot older. Even out of my disguise, I rarely felt like a "young person."

My only major concern with the plan, aside from the part where I was participating _at all_, was the possibility of being recognized if one of the three vampires newly employed at Splendide were in attendance. Actually two, since Gerald was working tonight. Pam assured me this would not be a problem as Anthony was at another job and Thalia's required bar time had been cut down to twice a month since she'd signed on at Caddo Security. Apparently she had something of a cult following among the vamp aficionados, and they'd been unwilling to let her give up making her appearances altogether.

"She's new to security?" I had asked.

"Yes," Pam had replied curtly.

"Why did they choose her for Splendide then?"

"Eric chose her for Splendide," was the only reply I'd gotten.

I mulled that over as I sat in the car, listening to the Dixie Chicks at low volume and waiting for the bus to arrive. Thalia was tiny, but ancient. Older than Eric, I thought. She didn't look it, but she was probably very strong. If he'd chosen her specifically it probably meant that she'd be good for the job, and I tried to find confidence in that. There were so many things that I needed to talk to him about at this point I felt like I should write a list.

The minibus rolled up at eight sixteen. This tour company was running pretty close to schedule. It was one of these tall luxury coaches that would have a tiny bathroom on board and little televisions on the backs of the seats. It parked at the far end of the lot, because that's the only place there would be room. Fangtasia was located at the end of a strip mall, though by this time in the evening the other businesses had closed. You could still see the big lit up sign of the Toys 'R' Us down the way. I bet their management had just loved it when Fangtasia opened up.

The crowd of tourists approached in a tight cluster, a roving mob full of nervous excitement. Pam was right, there were enough of them that I was able to slip in with the group undetected, less than twenty, but more than a dozen. It was hard to count while they were moving. My outfit was maybe a weensy bit over the top. I was not the only one in a Christmas sweater, nor the only one in ill-fitting khakis. I wasn't even the only one sporting a fanny pack, but I _was_ the only one who'd achieved the trifecta of sartorial tragedy. I'm not a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, but most of the clothes I have are of good quality and fit me well. I felt ridiculous.

A squat older woman about fifty turned to me as I sidled up beside her. She was heavy and wore a long-sleeved collared shirt in black with a black skirt and low black shoes. She had giant breasts that had _not_ stood up to the test of time and had left three buttons open to display a generous amount of her cleavage. She'd dressed for the evening.

"Have you ever met one before?" she asked in an excited whisper.

"I've only seen them on TV," I lied smilingly.

"I saw one on the street in Chattanooga once," she confided. "I'm pretty sure. I didn't like to stare. I think he was doing his shopping."

"Wow!" I enthused.

As we stood in line, she introduced herself as Marcy Lynn.

"That's my husband Stevie," she informed me, pointing out tall, thin man who managed to look uncomfortable in his black denim jeans. He too wore a black dress shirt, tucked in. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder. Stevie was here to indulge his wife, period. He was happy to have found another gentleman in the group to chat to while their women "got on with it." I found it oddly sweet, that they'd come along at all.

I gave my own name, which was fine, since she was barely paying attention anyway. She was too distracted with people-watching. I barely had to read her thoughts. Once she perceived me to be an eager listener, she was happy to babble away and point out various things and people. Another woman, even older, joined our friendly pairing. Her sweater was bright red with a silhouette of a sleigh and reindeer stitched on. She introduced herself as Billie Jones, and yes, she was named for Billie Holiday. She offered that without my asking. She was a widow who had recently retired, and was looking forward to embracing excitement in what she termed her golden years. I gave her a genuine smile.

Even though the tourists all seemed to be perfectly nice people, the whole idea of coming to see the vampires in their "native habitat" was absolutely absurd to me. The vampires were the rare and exotic species who would be on display and Fangtasia was the zoo. This place had to be incredibly profitable for Pam and Eric to tolerate, let alone invite, this crap.

When our little trio stepped up to greet Pam she glanced us over with what I recognized as affected disdain.

"Welcome to Fangtasia. IDs please," she said in a bored, brusque tone.

The two older women were delighted to be asked. I grinned and caught Pam's eye for an instant. She may have given me a wink. No one in our party could be remotely mistaken as underage, but being carded, even as a formality, puts a woman in a happy mood. Pam certainly knew her business.

I'd followed suit when the other women had proffered the twenty dollar cover charge, but Pam didn't take our money. I figured that was for my benefit, since I was here on her behalf.

"Oh no ladies," she smiled perfunctorily. "Save it for the gift shop."

They would, and they'd probably spend more there, anyway.

She waved us through and we moved inside, waiting for Stevie and the other couple to join us before we were seated at a table by a human hostess in a long black dress very like Pam's. A waitress appeared to take our drinks order as soon as we were situated. There were visible fang marks on her neck, very fresh. The sight of her caused a stir among the other tourists.

The place was filling up quick. The area where we'd been seated allowed a decent view of the rest of the club. That was probably by design. I'd been here before, so the grey and red décor, the pictorial history of vampires in film, and the intermittent block-lettered notices cautioning against feeding in public weren't new to me. I still scoffed inwardly. Such things were for the benefit of the human patrons, not the vampires. The vampires would know the rules. Sure they might still choose to break them in the confines of a convenient bathroom stall, but no one would be stupid enough to bite someone right out here in public.

The bar contained an interesting mix of people. There was our mismatched group of course, and then the fangbangers. There were also plenty of people just dressed for a normal night out. I doubted they were regulars. For whatever reason they'd chosen to do their drinking here this weekend. Probably a more subtle example of the same looky-loo inclination that was driving the bunch that surrounded me. There were half a dozen vampires interspersed throughout the floor, not counting the employees. Long Shadow was behind the bar and Clancy was positioned at the front like a bouncer. Pam would hardly need backup at the door, but I supposed it was the customary spot. I'd seen the two of them well enough through others' eyes the last time I was here to be able to identify them.

Eric was nowhere to be seen but just as my Gin and Tonic arrived I saw Pam slipping into the back hallway on her way to his office. I didn't intend to get drunk, but the rest of the table was of a mind to "let loose," so I felt obliged to get something to nurse. Marcy Lynn was halfway through her Sex on the Beach before Pam returned. She was speaking to Long Shadow at the bar when Eric appeared at her side.

He was wearing leather pants, dark as to be almost black but as he moved and they caught the light, I thought they might have been a very deep purple. They looked supple and fit him very well, sitting low on his hips. He'd paired them with heavy boots and black collared shirt. There might have been some stitching on the tabs of his collar, but it was hard to tell from here. He had forgotten even more buttons than Marcy Lynn. A broad belt with two rows of bronze rivets and a large buckle tied the outfit together. His hair was down, of course. I may have licked my lips. I had a sip of my drink.

Eric was talking to Pam and the bartender, but his eyes locked on mine. I glanced away quickly, but was forced to look back when the other women noticed him and exclaimed. It was simply impossible not to. He wasn't watching me anymore though.

When Pam and Eric moved away from the bar I took it as my cue to get busy. It was a busy few hours, for me. Eric and Pam strolled through the bar playing not charming, but _intriguing_ hosts. I struggled to follow the minds of the humans they spoke to, or those that accompanied the vampires, all while keeping track of the conversation at the table, so I wouldn't come off as odd if someone spoke to me directly and I failed to notice.

Eric took plenty of breaks to conduct business in a booth that was apparently reserved for him. When two Weres sat down with him, what I judged to be a father and a son, just based on their appearances, I took the opportunity to scoot into the ladies' room. Marcy caught me coming back and dragged me off to the gift shop near the club's entrance. It was really just a closet and a cash register. They had one of everything on display, but the main stock seemed to be stored in a back room.

"My my my, would you look at this!" Marcy said excitedly.

She was flipping through the pages of a calendar on the wall and had gotten a little flushed. It was better lit in here than it was out in the main bar. I peered over her shoulder as she flipped through the pages of very sparsely dressed male vampires.

"I'm getting one!" she declared. "Do you want to look?"

"Sure," I said, with a shy grin. It wasn't faked. I was very afraid that Eric would be in it. I started from December and flipped forward. It was outrageous. The scenes depicted all matched the months. There was Long Shadow in a loincloth and a headdress - good grief - for Thanksgiving, in November. I recognized Gerald in a star-spangled Speedo for July. The red-headed Clancy was in a Leprechaun hat clutching some strategically placed Shamrock cutouts for March. All of them were flashing their fangs of course, giving sexy, dangerous smiles. I let out a low whistle. Not _every_ vampire is painfully attractive, but this is by far and away the common trend.

"That's Clancy," a voice whispered next to me. I jumped, and the girl who'd been behind the counter gave a little giggle. Vast improvement on the haughty pout.

"Oh?" I asked.

"He runs the bar. He's _very_ good at his job," she said. If his job includes snacking on the staff, apparently. She was displaying fang marks on the top of her breast, just visible with her low cut blouse. She had a lot of fond thoughts about Clancy.

I flipped to the next page.

"That's Maxwell. He likes boys," she pouted. An African-American vampire was posed on a pink bed with a heart-shaped pillow. Valentine's Day and Black History Month in one shot, I guessed. Classy.

I flipped again.

"And _that's_ Master Eric," she said reverently. I swallowed. There was a fake fireplace glowing orange in the background. Eric was lying on his stomach on a brown fur rug, though propped up a bit on his elbows, displaying strong arms and a bit of his chest. The way he was positioned, you could see one muscular thigh and then the perfect curve of one of his butt cheeks. I had to resist the urge to trace it with my finger. His hair fell down around his shoulders. Then there were his eyes of course. He could teach a romance cover model a thing or two about smoldering.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Um, yeah. I'll take one. Oh. And a t-shirt."

I put the calendar down.

"Which t-shirt?" she asked.

I chose the plain black one with Fangtasia scrawled across the front in the same red script as the neon sign out front. I could wear it to bed or something.

Marcy spent close to a hundred fifty dollars on her own calendar, shirts for she and Stevie and one for their neighbor, a pair of shot glasses etched with fangs, a Fangtasia Christmas tree ornament, and a deck of playing cards featuring fictitious vampires. She was having a blast. Also she was pretty tipsy by that point. We giggled back to our table and she showed off her purchases while everyone else oo'd and ah'd. A couple of other women from a different table went off to shop for themselves.

"Ladies," came his smooth, cold voice. "Gentlemen." He was giving the men a nod as I looked up. "How are we enjoying Fangtasia this evening?" he asked the collective tables, flashing his winsome smile. I guess Eric had finished with the Weres. A woman behind me spoke up on behalf of the whole group letting the proprietor know that we were having a wonderful time.

"I'm so glad."

A girl with a camera scurried up and asked if anyone would like their picture made posing alongside Eric. Despite the prop Pam had loaned me, there'd been signs at the entrance indicating that photography was not permitted on the premises. However you _could_ have your picture taken by the official club photographer and buy a print. About half the people queued up. I didn't.

I was starting to get a little tired. After the photo-op a lot of the group had disappeared to retrieve their prints, and others had gone off to have a last dance or a last drink. For the tour group at least, the evening was wrapping up quickly. As I searched, I found heaps and heaps of petty crimes, and a couple of major misdeeds, though nothing dangerous. I was incredibly relieved when I finally caught wind of what I'd come here to look for.

_God damn, would she just shut up? This place will be so much better without her around._

I'd just been letting my mind skip around. I couldn't see Pam out on the floor. I could see her in the mind's eye of the woman she was talking to. I tried to pin down her location but there were just so many minds in the way. It was going on midnight by now and the club was still jumping. Near the entrance? I collected my bag and stood up, having to excuse myself from half a dozen people as I bumped in to them. Well it's a bar at midnight. I could pass for drunk.

_I thought for sure she was gone for good. Maybe he'll let me help him this time..._

I stiffened as I identified the girl from the gift shop. A couple of loose tiles that had been rattling around in the back of my mind finally fell into place. I was ready to leave then, but I knew I'd have to wait for the group to depart, and slip away again as they headed back to the bus. Maybe at some point later the people I'd chatted with would realize I was no longer with them. Maybe they'd chock it up to one more weird occurrence in their brief brush with the supernatural. _...And she vanished into the night!_

I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Eric letting him know it was Clancy he needed to look out for. I didn't know why, and I didn't know what his next move was, but I did know why Dirk Palfry and Jack Mason "hadn't been noticed," when they'd been here before. I'd watched the vampires along with everyone else. Long Shadow was busy keeping bar, but Clancy watched every person come and go. He'd have seen them. Dirk more than once. Did he know that Dirk had been working for the drainers as well as his friend Jack?

Eric's head shot up as he read the text, but he didn't look to me, he was getting a fix on Clancy. I was mollified that he didn't reply or look to me to question it.

I lagged behind the rest of the tour group and had no problems just getting into my car. I waited another five minutes until the bus pulled out before I turned the car on. They might have checked the names of everyone present against the names on some list, if they'd done anything. I hadn't been on the list, and I wouldn't need to be accounted for.

I drove home and showered, washing the makeup and perfume and the stink of the bar off of me, then I blew dry my hair and put on what I deemed to be presentable pajamas, in case anyone should be planning to stop by. Eric turned up about an hour later. He followed me in to the living room and we sat in opposite chairs. He finally broke the awkward silence by demanding to know what I'd heard and from whom, so I told him, along with why it made sense to me.

"So, was there anything else?" I asked. "That you wanted to talk about. Tonight."

"Did you enjoy your visit to my club?"

"I guess I had more fun than I expected to," I shrugged. "Those people were silly, but not unkind. I don't know how you stand it though."

"It is a good business."

"It would have to be, to be worth putting up with it all night after night."

"Yes. It is very profitable."

I nodded.

"I have other businesses as well," he remarked.

"I know that, Eric," I answered, uncertain as to why he was stating the obvious.

"So you know that I do not _need_ your or your great grandfather's money."

"Then what are you asking for?"

"Nothing."

"Then what are you going to do?" I asked him.

"Must I do something? Are you planning to leave the protection of my area?"

"No."

"And judging by tonight, you intend to uphold your promise to assist me on matters of great importance."

"Yes."

"I do not approve of the plan that you and Pam hatched tonight. If there is need in the future, we will find another way to get you near the vampires and their humans."

My instinct was to blurt out that it was all Pam's idea, but even to my sleepy self, that seemed childish.

"It was a one-time thing," I said.

In an instant he was hovering over me, his hand cupped along my jaw and his nose running down my neck as he inhaled. I trembled, and not with fear.

"You are better like this. Clean." He paused to breathe in. "Sweet. Warm."

He ran his lips down my neck and across my collar, tugging my t-shirt gently to the side with his fingers to reveal the extra inch or two of skin. He was kneeling before me now, caging me in the chair.

"I want you," he murmured, dipping back to press soft wet kisses up the other side of my neck.

Yes, but in what way?

"In all ways."

I felt my head dip back slightly. I think that was an honest to goodness swoon. I felt overwhelmed. His lips met mine and suddenly kissing him was all I could do. All I could think of. No questioning, no clarifying; just soft cool lips, firm pressure. Strong hands cradling. His sweet wet tongue probing, swirling, in an easy rhythm. He bent his forehead to touch mine as I broke away to gasp in air. He was still as I panted. His hands dropped to my shoulders, slid down my arms and took my hands as he leaned away.

"Tomorrow night we will be busy," he said.

"Wait, are you leaving?" I asked.

"I don't want to leave Pam alone with Clancy, at least not yet. And I feel your weariness."

"But..."

He smirked. Thank goodness for that really, because the cocky look on his face certainly grounded me.

"I can't stay now," he said, and he did sound regretful. "But, if you miss me, you can always see me next year."

"What?"

He disappeared for a moment and then returned with the little bag I'd brought home from Fangtasia. He dropped it casually on the table. Ah.

I shook my head with a rueful smile. "Good night then, Eric," I said as I stood up.

"Good night, Sookie."

I locked up after him and I did take the calendar back to my bedroom to give it a more intimate appraisal. I got as far as January.


	17. Could've Knocked Me Over With a Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy, who is both the bees knees _and_ the cat's pajamas, is the beta for this story. She's also writing **Dead Memories **which is a great take on pre-Revelation Area 5 and features our most adored amnesiac. Have a look!

This leg of the story is winding down. The good news (I hope) is that I have more I'd like to show and tell in this AU. There've been a few little seeds planted in the last few of chapters, some of them you reviewers have picked up on already!

I like to see things end at their natural endpoints, which from the point of view of the main plots, is right about here. _However_, aside from being my fun action mystery romp, this is a Sookie and Eric story; and these two have just not gotten to where we want them to be (threatening to break the nearest porch swing). In view of that, their story will continue right here.

So, if this were a book, we're more or less shifting into Part Two.

I'm going to drop it down to once a week updates, at least for a little while, until I've caught up. If you care about which day, I've put a poll on my profile page. Just click my name at the top. I'll let you know. Expect the regular update Friday.

Hopefully I'll be able to continue writing the characters and intrigue in a way that's true to the spirit of the books and satisfying for most. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Chapter 17 - You Could Have Knocked Me Over With a Vampire

The only exciting thing to happen on Saturday was that the quilt I'd ordered Gran for Christmas arrived. Her old one was beginning to show some wear. She used to like sewing, and might once have enjoyed the project of making a new one, but a broken finger that hadn't set right a few years back had ruined the hobby for her. I'd never gotten into it myself. This one was handmade by _somebody _at least. It was lovely and practical. I really hoped she would be pleased.

I finally made it to the grocery store, even remembering to pick up some more synthetic blood. Bizarrely, Life Force was on weekly special at the Winn Dixie. I tried and failed to imagine a vampire clipping coupons.

As promised, I didn't see Eric that night. That was a good thing. I needed the time to sort out my feelings. I didn't exactly manage it, but I made some good progress.

My body was apparently ready to stop ignoring Eric's attractions, but my brain demanded to know exactly where we stood before taking up with him romantically.

I wasn't even sure that "taking up with him romantically" was being offered. Eric wanted to have sex with me and drink my blood; that much was clear. I didn't know if the romantic side of things, the companionship, was part of the deal.

And was _that_ what it would be? Just a deal? In lieu of wealth or property, he'd take my body? Though I had the strong impression I wouldn't find such an arrangement unpleasant, at least physically, every thought rebelled against trading sex for my safety and security.

I have tried sex. Yes, I kept to myself in college a lot, but I wasn't a nun. It took three years for me to get up the nerve to take the plunge, but I had done it. It was pretty awful. We'd been friendly for a little while. I did like him well enough, and I sure knew he liked me, even with my weirdness. One night our hormones just took over.

I had to shield my mind like crazy just to make it to the point where we were ready to do it. In retrospect, I almost wish I hadn't learned to make my shields that strong back then, or it probably wouldn't have happened at all. Of course, I don't think I could have dealt with attending college at all if they weren't. Day in, day out, so many different people with so many thoughts... I felt a great relief now, as I remembered.

I'd been distracted with the effort of keeping him out, so while I knew to expect that sharp pinch of pain, the moment when it actually occurred came as a shock. My mental defense faltered, and all the thoughts he was having about when he'd taken his high school girlfriend's virginity came through in a flash.

I spent about a month kicking myself for doing it. I couldn't even be mad at him. People can't help the thoughts that fly into their heads. That's something I'd known for years. He hadn't been mean to me, either during or after. He'd tried to keep talking to me in the days that followed. He liked how I looked naked, and was eager to try again. I just couldn't. I stopped trying to pretend I could have any semblance of a normal social life for a while after that. I ended up making really good grades that year.

So that had been it. I've been too leery to give it another go. I would _not_ be dipping in to the human pool again, no matter what. We are just not compatible. I had always hoped that one day, if I met a nice opaque-minded shifter who was handsome enough and kind enough, maybe I'd get my chance. I was fairly confident that I _could_ like sex, given the right conditions. I certainly enjoyed my own ministrations.

_Thank you, Mr. January_.

On Sunday I was back at Gran's in the afternoon. I'd brought over some laundry detergent and some napkins, as well as some beef and chicken for the freezer. Though she lived off a fairly modest pension, Gran had a great objection to taking what she called "charity." She would never allow me to buy her groceries, or God forbid, give her actual money. I _was_ permitted to pick up things that happened to be on sale, however, and bring them by when I happened to visit. I _happened_ to watch the flyers for sales on meat, soap, paper goods, and other more expensive items pretty regularly.

Though I busied myself while she finished the cooking with another long walk in the woods, I steered well clear of the fairy portal. Niall had hinted that there'd been fighting in his world of late, and that is what had kept him away. I was now convinced that the _disturbance_ I had sensed the last time I'd been here was related to that. I was resolved to keep away.

We had the typical sharing of news as we ate our lunch. Jason harped on that the Parish's budget surplus would be rolled over, rather than be meted out to employees in the form of end of year bonuses, which had been the rumor in circulation. Gran and I both approved of the Parish's prudent plan. It was no real hardship to my brother. Jason's not rich, but as a single guy with no mortgage and no kids to support, he's doing just fine. He does his part for Gran as well, even beyond the handyman-type stuff. He'd had her propane tank filled last month when he did his. Just for the convenience of the propane delivery people, naturally. It'd be a waste if they had to drive all the way out to Bon Temps twice.

I didn't have much to talk about, since apart from my tourist trip to Fangtasia, I'd had a very humdrum sort of week. It was Gran who had the best gossip.

"Old Jesse Compton over the way passed on in his sleep on Thursday night," she announced.

Mr. Compton had been Gran's nearest neighbor. Ours too, when we used to live here. His antebellum home, still grander than this old farmhouse even its decay, was situated on the other side of Sweet Home Cemetery which abutted Gran's property to the south. I didn't remember old Mr. Compton well. I suppose Gran was friendly with him. Gran is friendly with practically everyone.

Obviously he would be buried in Sweet Home, but Gran said she didn't think there'd be much of a funeral. He didn't have any family left in these parts, which was why she did for him in the first place. We talked a bit about the big old house and the possibility of Gran getting some new neighbors sometime down the road. We weren't sure how long that might take to sort out, when there was no heir. The property would probably have to revert to the State or something, for a time, before it could be auctioned. That's what I guessed anyway.

As we were leaving, I warned Jason that he needed to check up on her more often during the week. He gave me a sullen, put upon look, and I smacked him on the shoulder, assuring him that I'd be calling her more as well. Gran is by no means a desolate old woman. I just wanted to keep it that way.

Mr. Cataliades phoned me late in the evening and I filled him in on what had been happening, chiefly as pertained to the Sheriff of Area Five and his knowledge of me.

"I suppose that must be part of the reason he's scheduled a meeting with me this week."

I tensed a little as he told me that, but forced myself to smooth my cool.

"Are you coming up here? If you let me know what night, I'll cook you dinner," I said invitingly.

"It seems that he'll be visiting down here for a number of days. Evidently he has some business with the Queen." By his tone of voice it was plain that while I might have been making an effort to try to trust Eric, he was not.

"I see."

"Do you suppose that's something you need to be concerned about?"

"I'm...pretty sure not. I think he and I have a...n...understanding on that score." I stumbled over exactly how to phrase it, but Mr. C didn't call attention to that.

"It will be an interesting week down here."

"He does have a knack for that," I agreed.

"To be sure, but apart from the Sheriff's visit, we'll be hosting Arkansas."

"Oh? Is he forwarding his courtship?" I wondered, remembering what Diantha had told me.

"I believe so."

He imparted no further details of the prospective vampire nuptials and we said goodnight shortly after. I'd sort of expected Eric or Pam to stop by that evening and fill me in on the Clancy situation, but neither did.

Work on Monday found me in my typical routine. I was a little disappointed to see that Ghellert wasn't in, I couldn't begrudge him a day off. He had worked nearly round the clock while Mintah was here, and quite a lot last week. I'm certain he needed some rest.

Tray Dawson was on duty, along with a Were named Curt. Curt was another great hulking figure. Weres _do_ come in sizes small and slight, but you wouldn't know it meeting those who'd been assigned at Splendide. When introduced, Curt had greeted me with a warm, two-handed shake and a deferential nod that seemed to amuse Dawson.

"He's gotta be one of the friendliest wolves I've ever met," he murmured, once Curt had left us. I didn't know about that. Despite the grim face, Tray himself seemed friendly enough. I glanced around immediately to be certain we were away from any prying ears, garnering another smirk from the lone wolf. Naturally he assumed that he'd know better than I if anyone had been near enough to catch his remark. He could keep right on assuming. He was probably right at that particular moment anyway, since I wasn't listening out. It would take some getting used to, having more people around on a regular basis with whom I could speak somewhat freely. I knew we'd still have to be careful, but I decided it was kind of...nice.

"Listen, careful what you say around here. It's only Brenda and I who-"

"I know," he said interrupting me. "I guess it just feels good to be able to say something like that to someone who's not also two-natured. Or dead," he added as an afterthought. We were on the same page, then.

"Well, not too much longer, right?"

"Eh, years. They're only just starting to get organized beyond a local level, and loners like me well, we don't even get half a say."

"Curt's in the Shreveport pack?" I asked casually. I was fishing for a little more information about my new coworkers in general, but I was also curious about Tray. Did he ever feel pressure from the local pack to join up?

"Nah. The Sharp Claws over in Monroe, where he's from."

"That's kind of a trek," I mused, considering his commute.

"This job pays pretty well," he informed me.

"That's good I guess." I suppose Eric had negotiated pretty sweet terms with Mintah. He'd take his cut off the top before paying his guys of course.

"It is," Tray continued, not distracted as I was with mental accounting. "I got a boy looking like he's going to college to worry about lately."

I didn't let my face betray me as I observed that he looked a little young to have a son in high school. He was maybe only a few years older than me. It's not such a great rarity down here, young parents. Holly was one too, after all. It had probably caused no small amount of gossip if he came from a small town though. I resolved not to comment.

"Oh yeah? That's great," I smiled, and he smiled back. "Is he uh..."

"A Were? Nah. Runs like one though, with a football," he said proudly.

We shared another smile before I headed down to work. I had a collection of very old coins to go through. They're not my field of expertise. I could make estimates, but since coin collecting is such a very specific interest, these would be shipped to our specialist in another office. I just needed to make sure that everything was kosher. That was the byword that Brenda and I used, since it's not like she could ask me in front of others if everything was "human." Vampires and shifters would use regular money of course, and currency in the Fae world tended to be less...tangible. Sometimes though, you could get an emblem or other trinket of supernatural origin slipping in among the coins. Nothing special today, though. I finished them before lunch.

I took a couple of consultation calls in the afternoon. Human professionals in this field actually do network quite a bit. I enjoy that since it's done almost entirely over the phone or online. Sometimes, when you're at your wit's end trying to identify something, it's helpful to reach out to others who might have a clue.

Between the robbery and the holidays, we expected that business wouldn't really pick up again until after the new year. Come January we'd have a bit of appraisal to do, and some amount of what was basically gift exchange. When it's known that someone has an interest in antiques, it might be tempting to buy them something pretty and old when there's occasion to do so. Unfortunately, most collectors have very specific tastes, and well-meaning present-givers can easily miss the mark. After an event like Christmas, many pieces tend to find their way back on to the market. It's a good time to buy. So even though it was slow now, no one was particularly worried about the future of our business. If there's any trade that can take the long view of things, it's ours.

I thought that I might busy myself for the week doing research, and though it does consist of sitting around and reading, which I find pleasurable, it is not quite the same as slacking off. After all, the more knowledge that I have, the better I can do my job in the future. There's simply so much out there that I could spend a lifetime at it and never be done learning things.

The vast majority of my supernatural knowledge has been passed by word of mouth from those I've met, or listened to, or things I've heard in passing. I have a few books. The set that I particularly love were a gift from Niall on the occasion of my graduation.

They are a translation of what is effectively an encyclopedia from the Fae world, though it includes some things from this world, and some from some places I can't even begin to imagine. It's only three volumes, hand-written in a sometimes minuscule script. Apart from being full of information, the books are quite beautiful. They remind me of the illuminated manuscripts that humans produced in Europe in the middle ages, though of course they are much newer. They're written on true vellum (not paper vellum), made from the skin of the water sprites who helped kill my parents. That was intended to be part of the present.

Somewhat to Niall's disappointment, I didn't revel in that. I tried not to think of it. Every time I did, I had to convince myself that it was no different from regular vellum or leather, which come from cows. Really malicious cows. Whoever coined the term "fairy stories" to apply to nice and wonderful things really needs a cuff upside the head.

Apart from those books and a couple others I have access to, trying to do research on supernatural history and habits gets a little tricky. I've heard a rumor that the shifters have some kind of library, and boy would I love to get a visitor's card to that! Since I am not a shifter though, that wasn't going to happen. There's plenty that's been written down by humans, but you have to cherry-pick the fact from the fiction. Most often, research just leads me to questions. It's still a case of finding someone to provide the clarifying answers.

I bet Eric would be good for that. I might still have some Q&A time due me, for helping with Pam. He didn't say they had to be about him.

Brenda was pleased that I planned on making use of my down time to do something productive. Donald and Wilson had spent most of the morning downing eggnog in the break room and reading the newspaper. She ended up sending them home at midday, intending to handle any walk-ins herself. We did not get any.

Holly, Brenda, and I left together at five-thirty. Tray was coming off his shift as well and walked us three over to the parking lot. Initially I'd thought that Ghellert had just been continuing the habit of acting protective since he'd served the brief stint guarding me, but evidently it was now a formal procedure. Any employee departing after dark would need to do so with an escort. I was glad it was Tray and not one of the vampires who'd just come on duty. So was Brenda.

Eric turned up after I'd eaten dinner, but not to stay. When I gestured him inside he walked straight through to the living room and didn't turn around until he caught sight of my coffee table, bare of any cases of super valuable relics of vampire justice that may have been left behind.

"I've come to retrieve the case I left."

"Sure," I agreed, and went back to fish it out from under the guest bed. He followed me and hovered in the doorway as I crouched down.

"Nosy," I said, not that this was exactly the world's most secure hiding place.

"Enjoying the view," he informed me, breaking my gaze to let his eyes wander back to my behind.

"Charming." I rolled my eyes. Still kneeling, I set the case on the bed and opened it, ready to take the knives out.

"Actually, I was hoping to borrow the silver."

Ah.

"Clancy?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What's happening there?"

"It is not for me to decide. When I informed the Queen of his treachery, she decided that she would act as the arbitrator. I am ordered to bring him before her in New Orleans. We leave tonight."

"Oh, that's good," I said absently. It was good, since it answered satisfactorily why Eric had meetings with the Queen this week, but if he had to leave tonight, I guess it meant we wouldn't be talking...

"It is inconvenient," he said peevishly. "I am her Sheriff. Does she not trust me to carry out a fit punishment on one of my own?"

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. It wasn't that I was pleased about his irritation, but he just seemed so... like a person...as he showed it.

"Is that so strange? That she'd summon you?"

"Not unheard of, but uncustomary. This matter pertains to my child, and she has decided that for the sake of appearing aboveboard, she will pass the judgment. I should have just let Pam stake him," he continued ruefully. "Because he was not an immediate threat, I decided it would be best to follow the proper protocol."

"She probably just wants you around while the Arkansas vamps are there," I said consolingly.

"What?"

I knew he'd heard me so I was a little confused by the question.

Finally he said, "Arkansas will be visiting New Orleans this week?"

"Oh. Yes, sorry. I just figured you knew."

"I did not."

"Oh," I shrugged. "Well, now you do."

He seemed to consider it for a long moment before making a short sound of derision. I looked up at him puzzled, but he didn't answer.

"So she's what, having you in for backup? Showing you off?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Catching me off guard, and putting her dominion over me on display to her guests as well."

"Yuck," I agreed. His comment had come in a flat, indifferent tone, but there was no hiding the unpleasantness of that situation. "Well, it could be worse," I said, all Miss Mary Sunshine. "At least you don't have to deal with that stuff all the time, right?"

He peered down at my tentative smile and finally nodded.

"Do you have to get going right away?" I asked.

He was beside me then and his hand came down and caught a piece of my hair. He brushed against my neck as he twirled it through his fingers.

"Were you hoping for some _alone time_ with me?"

I swallowed. He'd stayed across the room as we chatted, but since I was still sitting back on my heels and he was now standing right beside me, I brushed his hand out of my hair and stood up. He was still watching me with that expectant leer once I was on my feet.

"Yes," I answered. "We need to talk. I want to know about Clancy, and there are a lot of other things." For a distraction, and to keep myself from pinking up, I asked, "Do you need the gold too, or just the silver?"

"Just the silver," he said, and when I plucked the knife he would not be taking out of the case, he stepped forward and closed it, tucking it under one arm. I wanted to warn him to return the knife clean and intact, but then his hand was back cupping my neck.

"We do need to talk, and _other things,_" he agreed. "But I will not be gone for long. Pam will be remaining here, if there should be some emergency."

"She's not going with you? Won't she need to testify, if it's a trial?"

"I am taking Long Shadow and the girl from the club, his human. Pam will remain with Indira and Maxwell Lee to run the bar while I am gone."

"So, why did he do it? Why'd he help Jack get Pam?"

Eric gave me one of his considering stares which seem designed to make me feel uncomfortable while he buys time to decide how much to tell me. I raised my eyebrows letting him know to hurry it along. I felt I was owed the explanation.

"Clancy acted as my second-in-command before the Great Revelation, before I called Pam back to me."

"So he was jealous of her?" I asked.

"He is not very...he felt he would do the best job." The way he said it was odd, and I wondered if maybe there wasn't more between them.

"Were you two um, lovers?"

He laughed. "No."

"So he wanted to go back to being your second, and he thought he'd dispose of Pam through the witches?"

"Something like that."

"Something like...?" I pressed.

"He has confessed to learning of, and fostering the witches' plot, and helping to abduct Pam. He had planned to help to apprehend them, once the deed was done. As to the motivations, he has not said. I am unconcerned with his reasons. Clancy has lacked due deference in the past. Perhaps he could have simply left my area, but he chose this instead. If not for you, Pam would be dead or worse. He will pay."

"And my part in it all is staying between us, yes? You're not going to mention you had help from a telepath at all, right? Not even an unidentified one?"

"No. Between Pam's lover and this Dirk, I will say I gleaned enough to track them down. If he should happen to mention the presence of a blonde woman at the club, and it is unlikely, it will only have been as someone who had seen Dirk in the salon and been glamored into speaking of him."

"Good," I breathed. I was glad he'd given some thought to the contingency, and wouldn't have to come up with an explanation on the spot.

"And, what about the girl from the gift shop?" I asked.

"She will testify that Clancy hinted his resentment for Pam."

"And then?"

"Then she will decide that she dislikes her employer enough to quit her job."

I nodded. That was for the best. After hearing her thoughts I could even believe that, in the absence of Clancy, she might have made that decision on her own.

"So... how long will you be gone?"

"I will return sometime Friday in the night."

I nodded.

"It may be late," he added.

"Well, maybe you can put me your schedule some time soon then."

"Yes," he agreed, and he stepped closer, bowing his head to my neck. He drew a long slow breath, taking my scent, and I felt his fangs brush ever so lightly across the skin. I shivered.

He stepped back, and I suppose I had to be grateful that he'd gotten neither of us too riled up again. He nodded towards the door, and I nodded back. He had to leave. His Queen was expecting him.

I followed him back to the front door and was pleased when he seemed to linger another moment.

"Oh," I remembered. "Eric?"

"Yes, Sookie?" I enjoyed hearing him say my name.

"Why are you meeting with Cataliades?"

He arched a brow. That was evidently not the question he'd expected.

"We have things to discuss."

"Regarding me?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me what?" I asked impatiently.

"Yes," he repeated, with a tiny wink.

He really _does_ know how to make an exit.

The next morning I got another chat with Tray wherein I learned that unlike our old group of guards who were mostly ex-military, he instead was an ex-cop. Though he hailed from up here, he'd worked down in New Orleans. From both his mind and his manner as he spoke, I got that there was a little more to that story than he was telling, but I didn't want to pry just at that moment.

The other Were on duty that day was a man named Parnell Whatley and he didn't seem interested in joining in our small talk in the slightest.

"He's one of Flood's," Tray offered, as if that were some explanation for the standoffish behavior. "He's with the Pack here."

"Good to know," I said.

I talked for a minute or two with Holly who was busy writing up a list. I was a little surprised when she reminded me that Christmas was this coming Sunday, only five days away. It wasn't that I'd been unaware of the date or anything, but there always seems to be that point each year when, after ignoring weeks or even months of holiday ads, you realize that Christmas actually finally _is_ just around the corner. The party at work would be Friday. Actually I didn't think we were still calling it a party. It had been downgraded to a luncheon at the end of last week. With Dan and Greg and everyone so newly gone, subdued seemed just about right.

I knew they'd get other assignments; they were good guards. I could understand why the decision to hire the supes had been made. It didn't stop the fact that putting our old guys out of work, especially at this time of year, was just lousy. I doubted Mintah had given it any thought at all.

Brenda and I went out to eat lunch together, as we did a couple of times during a normal work week. For once it was my phone that rang to interrupt our meal, rather than hers, which rarely seemed to stop.

I peered down at the little window and frowned. It was an odd time for Gran to be calling.

"Gran?" I answered. "Everything okay?"

"Better than okay honey." She sounded like she'd been crying.

"What's going on?"

"It's Hadley."

"Is she-"

"Honey, she's _home_."

I gasped.

"She's...?"

"She's here. She's right here. Oh, Sookie, can you come out tonight?"

"What's going on?" Brenda asked. I had no idea what kind of expression was on my face.

"I'll get there as soon as I can, Gran." A dozen questions were flying through my head. Was she alright? Where had she been? Was she still on drugs? Was she sick? "Did you call Jason?"

"He's coming right over after work," she told me.

"I'll be there too."

"Okay baby, we'll see you soon."

She hung up. I stared down at my phone in disbelief.

"My... cousin is home," I told my boss.

"The runaway?" Brenda asked. I hadn't talked about Hadley much, but would come up occasionally when we chatted about our families. Mine is so small, I just didn't have many people to talk about. Hadley wasn't exactly a runaway. She was closer to Jason's age, and she'd been a legal adult when she left, but it was a near enough explanation that I didn't bother correcting her.

"Yeah."

"Home for Christmas," Brenda said.

"Yeah," I repeated.

"You okay Sookie?"

"Yeah."

It's been more than six years since we'd even heard from her, and the last time had been... She'd been into drugs and sex and a style of living that was not conducive to, well, living. We'd all thought she'd died, or at best that she never wanted to be found.

"Damn." I muttered, still a little shell-shocked.

"Do you want to get right over there?"

"I'll go straight there after work," I said.

"I think the selkies can wait until tomorrow," she said, in reference to my planned research. She dropped her voice even lower. "They're just wereseals anyway."

"They've left a rich archaeological record scattered throughout the islands and the coasts of the North Atlantic," I murmured. "They're well documented."

"Sookie."

"Hm?"

"You have my permission to leave early."

"Thanks."

I needed time to digest. Isn't _Easter_ the holiday for the resurrections?

"Sookie, snap out of it."

"Right," I mumbled. "Sorry. Let's get the check."

She waved the slim black folder in front of me. I guess I'd missed a minute or two there. I produced the bills to pay for my lunch and parted from Brenda while she went inside and I went to my car. I'd locked the lab when I left and the only things I'd brought into work had been my purse and jacket, both of which I had with me.

I drove to Gran's house more or less on autopilot. Before I knew it I was coming up the gravel drive. This really needed replacing. I stepped out of the car and there she was. Her thin arms wrapped around me as she bent her head against my shoulder. I patted her back.

"Hey Had," I said.

"Hey Sook," she said, smiling through tears. It looked like she'd been crying for hours. I'm sure she had been.

We sat at the kitchen table while Gran cooked and sat down with us at intervals. Hadley wasn't talking about whatever the hell she'd been up to, so Gran and I were obliged to fill her in on our lives. She'd known about Linda. She said she'd clipped the obituary and had kept it. I nodded when she relayed that. She sure as heck hadn't turned up for the funeral, nor even sent a card.

Jason banged through the door a few minutes after four and Hadley was on her feet again in a flash.

"Christ girlie, where in Sam Hill have you been?" he said, hugging her tightly.

"Jason, I'm sorry," she said.

"Forget it Hadley," my brother said, smoothing her hair. I didn't quite know what that was about, which is pretty rare for me, but then again, I make an active effort to stay out of my brother's head. I wouldn't read Gran as much as I do if she minded the way Jason does. She doesn't though. She knows I can't relax if I'm actively trying to block her out. "Damn it's good to see you."

My brother lacked the tact of Gran and I, who come to the tacit agreement that we'd let Hadley tell her tale in her own time. He was unwilling to wait, and after his second, "No seriously, where the hell have you been?" he got a thwack on the back of the head with an oven mitt for his cussin', and Hadley began to talk. I listened to her with my ears and my other sense.

When she'd left us, she gone to New Orleans, hoping to reconnect with her father and her father's family. They were well-to-do people of the sort that can recite you the names of their great great _great_ grandparents, not because they're history buffs like our Gran, but because they believed that their family was better than most other people's and had been for quite some time. When that didn't turn out well, she'd gone straight back to the party scene, and worked in various clubs and bars. She'd enjoyed what she admitted in front of Gran was, "too much fun," but which I could see in her head had sometimes been about the furthest thing from fun that you can get and still make it out alive.

She managed to straighten herself out a bit, after a time. She met a nice man with a good and steady job, and she married him, which shocked Gran. She was Hadley Savoy now, having done away with her father's name of Delahoussaye. She'd had a pregnancy, but lost the baby, and things had got bad for her again, she told us. She'd inched back to her wild ways and filed for a divorce when she decided she wanted no more ties.

It was about that time when she realized she was no longer interested in men at all, though she didn't say that out loud to our grandmother either. When her girlfriend had turned up dead, she realized she'd had her fill of New Orleans. She'd been living in Houston these last two years, where she worked as a hostess at a restaurant and lived with another girl who worked there.

What I knew, because she turned to me and thought directly at me, in the way we used to do when we were kids and wanted to keep secrets from Jason, was that the girl she'd been living with had been her girlfriend, as well as a Were.

Hadley had _questions_.

"Why'd you leave Houston?" Jason asked. "Or are you just visiting?"

"I...I might have done something stupid," Hadley started.

At that point the three of us, in unison, breathed out the same heavy sigh. Jason was the first to chuckle. Gran followed suit. I made myself smile along with them. I couldn't laugh at the moment.

Hadley's "something stupid," she confessed, was cheating. She considered briefly telling us that she had slept with the woman's boyfriend, but decided to go with the truth, explaining to Gran that her roommate had been more than a friend. Gran took that news in her stride while Hadley was speaking. She'd work it out for herself later on.

I saw immediately that it was the getting caught part of the business that Hadley really regretted. Her suddenly ex-girlfriend had responded to the infidelity by kicking Hadley out of the shared apartment and torching all of her possessions in a dumpster behind a Target store. No such thing as a burn-barrel in the big city, I guess.

I'm pretty sure that Hadley could have showed up with bloody hands and a body to hide and _still_ found a welcome on Gran's doorstep that day. Once she had told us her edited version of the worst, our grandmother simply embraced her and assured her that everything was going to be okay now. Since Jason had only ever escaped the branding of "cheater" by virtue of never committing to a woman for more than a night or two, he was indifferent. He certainly understood the impulse to roam. That left prudish old me alone in my disapprobation.

She'd turned up here only because she'd had nowhere else to go. Was it really the first time she'd been in this position? From the story she'd told of the life she'd led, it was hard to imagine that this was truly the first time she'd been at the end of her rope.

I felt guilty about it, but I really couldn't help being suspicious of my cousin.

Hadley hadn't arrived with much. I wasn't sure how she'd gotten here. There'd been no extra car in Gran's driveway. She had a little money with her, but no savings she could have relied on. Gran found some clothes for her to wear for a day or two, an mishmash of her own things and some of those that I hadn't taken to Shreveport. Hadley had complained good-naturedly that the pair of my old jeans she wore, ones I'd left behind because they no longer fit me, were "way loose" on her. Gran was planning to take her shopping in the morning to get her enough things to tide her over. She didn't even have a toothbrush.

We stayed through dinner and a long while afterwards, but finally it was time for me to get going and Jason opted to hit the road as well. Hadley was out front saying goodnight to my brother while Gran went back to tend to the guest room. I slipped in the room after her and she shot me a smile over her shoulder.

"I'm so glad she's home," Gran told me, as if she needed to.

"I'm happy too," I said. "It's weird though."

"What's got you worried?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I hope you talk to her, Gran. She's been away for so long...we don't even know her anymore."

"She's family," Gran said firmly.

"Of course, I never said she wasn't. I'm glad she's home...I just want to be sure she's home for good."

"Me too," Gran admitted.

We said our goodbyes. I went out and found Hadley hanging around on the back porch. I caught sight of Jason's taillights just turning on to the road.

"So you're living in Shreveport now?" my cousin asked.

"Yup," I agreed. We'd covered this earlier.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You're really an archaeologist?" I tried not to mind that she sounded disbelieving.

"Yeah. I work in a lab though, no Indiana Jones stuff."

She met my brief smile with an airy chuckle.

"That's cool," she said. "Um, Sookie?"

"Yes?"

"Could I talk to you sometime, about _things_?"

"Things like how your mother died of cancer believing you were dead in a ditch somewhere, or things like how you left a pissed off werewolf behind in Houston?"

Her eyes widened for a moment before she shut them entirely. I'd been polite and smiling all evening, at least outwardly. I hadn't let on before that moment that I'd picked up what she'd tried to convey to me about the dual nature of her ex-girlfriend.

"Both," she whispered.

I waited until she was looking at me again and I gave her a level nod.

"Then yes. We can talk about _things_."

"Okay."

"Not tonight though. I got work in the morning."

"Not tonight," she agreed.

"Soon," I assured her.

"Thank you."

* * *

A/N: To preempt concerns: no Hunter, no Hadley+QSA. If you did not guess already, Mr. Cataliades would not be so committed to protecting Sookie's obscurity if Hadley were up in Sophie-Anne's boudoir spilling family secrets the whole time. All I'll say is that she's still Hadley. Hopefully you'll still come along?


	18. Liberty in a Vampire Bed

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy is the beta for this story, which is pretty cool for me (and you) because she's awesome. Thank you to both!

Looks like we'll keep on Tuesday updates. Thanks for your feedback!

* * *

Chapter 18 - Liberty in a Vampire Bed

By Thursday I'd hit my stride on my little research project. I was scouring the online archives of the British Museum when the phone started ringing. They've got an impressive collection of clothing dating back to the Middle Ages, which is absolutely amazing when I think about it. I've had clothes and shoes that didn't last a year.

With the wereseals, there's a nearly ubiquitous reference to the "sealskin" that would be shed when they took on their human forms. It would be easy to dismiss that as just a phrase used to describe the change from animal to human form; shedding one's seal-skin, but by all accounts it's a literal garment. There are stories about them being carried, lent, stolen, and so forth, which all point to something tangible. My strong suspicion was that it was some kind of clan designator, kind of like the Highland tartans, maybe? They seem to have originated from that general area; northern Scotland and the many islands in the vicinity. It wasn't unreasonable to assume there'd be some cultural overlap.

I made another quick note before sliding off my stool and going over to pick up the phone by the door.

What I'd really love is to be able to travel to some of these places and try to meet people who could tell me more. Maybe the seals themselves, if there are still any living up there. Because that's a great idea, right? I could go next week. I'll just hop on a plane, seek out any strange supes I can find, and ask if I can have a peek at their family heirlooms. Yeah, I don't think so.

"Lab," I answered.

"Sookie? Your cousin Hadley's here, could you come up?"

My eyes swiveled up as I breathed a sigh.

"Sure, be right up," I said cheerfully.

It was late to go to lunch but I grabbed my purse and coat anyway. If she wasn't hungry she could just have a drink or something.

My cousin, dressed in tight jeans and a tight shirt with a low scoop neck was chatting amiably to Holly at her desk when I came up.

"Sookie, I didn't know you had a cousin!"

"I sure do," I smiled, because what else could I say, really? I turned to Hadley and asked, "Did ya eat lunch yet?"

"No. Gran lent me her car so I could come up and see about putting in applications at places."

I nodded. I did approve of her finding a job as quick as she could. It was a good indication that she planned to stick around. Someplace up here would be a bit of a commute from Gran's house, but I couldn't deny she'd have more options for finding a position here than around Bon Temps.

"Where'd you try?"

I gave a little wave to Holly and pointed Hadley around back towards the doors. I narrowed my eyes at Tray as we passed. He smirked. He'd been checking out her breasts.

"I went over to the casinos."

I nodded. That wasn't a bad option for her, really. She could probably do well serving drinks or waiting tables. She had her father's dark hair, but our blue eyes. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her skin was clear. There was an indefinable quality about her that hinted at the hard life she had led; something in her eyes and the set of her mouth. Still, she was lovely. Hadley had always been beautiful.

We ended up just pulling through the Sonic and driving over to Veterans Park where we could sit in the car with a view of Red River.

"So," I began. "You dated a Were?"

Hadley was relieved that was the point at which I chose to start.

"Yeah," she said.

"How'd you find out about her? Did she tell you?"

"Yeah...after..."

_Damn it._ "Hadley."

"God, could you not do that?"

"Then _tell_ me."

"Fine, just..."

"Hadley!"

"Okay. I told her, about you and your mental condition, and she took it as, I don't know, proof, that I'd be okay with her. She's got a big family... Well, it's weird. She's got a lot of relatives, lots of half-siblings and cousins... Her mom has kids from like... four different guys. Anyway. She was always talking about her family, and always pressing to hear more about mine. I didn't... I don't like to think about most of them. Daddy's side was never interested in knowing me and...I just... I talked about Jason and you a lot.

"I told her about when we were kids and how we had to make up games so you couldn't cheat and stuff, and she was interested. She said there's a lot of stuff in the world that we don't know about, or can't explain, even now that the vamps are out... a few days after that, she changed in front of me."

"And, how did you handle that?"

"Freaked the fuck out!" she blurted.

I couldn't help but laugh, and in a moment she did too.

"But, when I calmed down... I was kind of okay with it," she said. "I mean it's weird as hell, but except for the full moon nights, she was just a regular woman."

"And she was good to you?" I asked. To say that Weres in general can be prone to temper problems is a little bit of an understatement.

"She was until..."

"Until you cheated on her?"

"No! It was before that. She started saying that she wanted to have a baby, and I... ever since with Remy... it's just too hard. It's too hard to raise kids and do right by them. I don't want any. Not ever."

"So you started having problems then?"

"It wasn't even just that she wanted to get pregnant, but she had a man in mind to be the father. She said it was just going to be a sperm donation, but she was so set on it being this one guy. She didn't want to go to a fertility place or something."

Between what she'd said, and what I could tell from her thoughts, it was pretty clear that while Hadley's ex-girlfriend had revealed something of her own nature, she had not given a very thorough explanation of Weres in general. What she'd described, her mother having kids from multiple fathers, the girlfriend's desire to have a child by one particular man; it was obvious to me that this was breeding. Any given coupling of two full-born shapeshifters can produce one child, the first born child, who will grow up to be a shifter. Hadley's ex-girlfriend, though a lesbian, was evidently still beholden to her pack to produce offspring.

"Did she ever explain to you why she insisted on this particular guy?"

"She said something about a family obligation, but that was bullshit. She was going to leave me for him. For a man."

"So you got her first."

Hadley hung her head. "She was off doing... it was the full moon. So I went out, and I saw this girl I'd seen before, and she was just so hot, and so eager to get to know me...I took her home. I didn't think Cami would be back. Most of the time she stayed out past dawn."

I could see the woman as she pictured her, with beautiful auburn hair and lovely alabaster skin. She looked a bit like she'd raided Pam's closet, at least the one that contained her work clothes. Gloves that covered past her elbows, a boned corset, a short black skirt. Hadley had always liked the goth look.

Passing over the sordid details of my cousin's indiscretion, I pressed Hadley to tell me more about what the ex, Camille, had told her about being a werewolf. I was right that it had been basically nothing. Why Camille had felt the need to tell my cousin she was a wolf in the first place, I'll never know. Actually that was a flat out lie. I knew exactly how it felt to want to tell people who and what you were, to not have to hide things from the people you are closest to.

I did the best I could to console my cousin, picking up the "family obligation" line and trying to associate it with being a Werewolf in a vague sense, rather than trying to explain the specific details about the breeding habits of pack wolves. It's not every pack of course, but those with low numbers...yes. They'll do what must to ensure survival. Those were not my secrets to tell, and frankly my cousin was better off well out of the supe world. On the subject of secrets though, I did take time to impress upon her that my little secret had to be kept.

"It's not a joke, Hadley. Unless you're looking to get me kidnapped and forced to do what it is that I do against my will, you will keep your mouth shut."

"I get it Sookie... but are you sure you're not overreacting? I won't say anything. Most people wouldn't even believe..."

She was speaking from experience.

"I am deadly serious Hadley. I live here. I'm a real person here, not just some name in your stories. Don't talk about me. Please."

"Okay, okay. I won't say anything. I promise."

"Good."

I had to get back then or risk running a little long on my lunch hour. I told Hadley I'd see her on Christmas Eve. Gran had decided that we'd be going to the eight o'clock church service as she wanted to see the kids in the pageant.

"Sookie?" she asked. I'd just pulled back into Splendide's parking lot. She'd been quiet while I chattered away about our Christmas rituals at Gran's house.

"Yeah?"

"Uncle Bartlett won't be there, will he? For dinner?"

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"No," I said flatly.

Gran had stopped speaking to her brother shortly after Jason and I moved in. That had been the best day of my childhood; the day I told her what Uncle Bartlett had done and what he'd been thinking of doing, to me. Gran, unlike my mother, had believed me. She'd abjured him. That wasn't a term she would have used. It's a Were term referring to cutting someone out of your life completely, breaking any and all ties. When I'd first heard about it, I couldn't help thinking of Gran and her brother. I never told Gran about the word though, because we don't talk about Uncle Bartlett. I guess there are an awful lot of things that we don't talk about at the Stackhouse homestead.

"Good," Hadley breathed. By then I'd slipped my shields back up but even they couldn't keep out the powerful and singular feeling of relief that washed over her.

"I never knew it was you too," I said quietly.

"You weren't the only one who was _special_," she said, so bitterly that I winced.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Me too."

We sat in cold silence for a long moment before Hadley pulled herself together and told me she'd better get back. I watched her get into Gran's car and drive out of the parking lot before going inside.

On the way home that night I stopped at the mall and got a few last minute presents for Hadley, a set with a hat, scarf, and gloves, a gift card to a discount store, because the money would go furthest there, and a silver necklace with earrings to match. I didn't spend a whole lot, but I wouldn't turn up with nothing for her.

The next day Brenda had to drag me away from the lab to attend the catered lunch. It was fine. Brenda really liked the necklace I'd picked out for her. I enjoyed it for an hour and came away with a gift card to one of the casinos. I guess you can run it through a little machine and they'll give you chips. Tray had gotten one to a salon that did haircuts, nails, and tanning. We traded.

On Christmas Eve I woke up early and busied myself with cooking and baking. I was expecting Niall for dinner, and wanted to put together a nice meal. I roasted a chicken and made stuffing with apple and cranberries, glazed carrots, and some Brussels sprouts with brown butter and lemongrass. I also made two sweet potato pies, one to take to church.

My great grandfather turned up late in the afternoon in one of his perfectly tailored suits, donning the silly snowman tie I'd given him a couple of years ago. I practically threw myself into his arms on the porch and felt the immediate flood of peace and contentment that came from being near him. I might have held on to that hug for an extra-long time, but he didn't seem to mind it.

"Great granddaughter, Merry Christmas," he said, bending to kiss my cheek once I finally let him free of my embrace.

"Merry Christmas, great grandfather. Thank you so much for coming."

"I know that it is important to you, and I can smell that you have been cooking. May I come inside?"

"Oh course! I'm so sorry, do come in. May I get you a drink? I have wine or mulled apple cider?"

He considered for a moment and then seem to remember, "I do like apples. I would be happy to try some of the cider."

I heated some up on the stove for both of us, and got right down to telling him about Hadley's return. His response was predictably neutral. I knew that it would be of interest, but I did not expect much more than that. He nodded throughout as I relayed her story and asked only after the werewolf.

"Do you believe the Were woman will be angry enough to seek further vengeance?"

"Hard to tell from what Hadley has said, and what I've heard. She got real angry when she walked in on them, but that's a pretty normal response from any female."

"Hmm."

"Any _human_ female. Or Were female who is human most of the time," I amended.

Niall and I have had some excruciatingly awkward discussions about coupling in the past and I'll just say that the fairy view of things pertaining to sexuality is a lot closer to that of the vampires than it is to humans. Suffice it to say, he finds our conventions of monogamy and even basic modesty completely baffling.

"Fairy women can be strongly opinionated on matters of partnership," Niall conceded. I nodded my agreement. Close enough.

Over dinner, Niall happily told me all that he knew about the selkies of the North Sea and I was positively elated to have guessed right about the sealskin. There were different cloaks worn by the different families given to the shifters upon their comings of age. Instead of "family" though, Niall had used the word "bob," which made me laugh, but apparently it was closest to the old word they'd actually used to refer to their groupings.

Though Niall complimented the meal I'd prepared for us, he did not ask for seconds. He examined the Christmas cards I had hung up as I cleared away the dinner things.

"These drawings are nothing like what it looks like in this part of the world," he observed.

"No," I agreed. "I guess the cold winter night and snuggling up by the fire are sort of the idyllic images of the holiday. It's a good thing I knew Santa wasn't real right from the start. I'd have been all hung up on how he gets his sleigh around with no snow in Louisiana," I chuckled.

Niall made the agreeable noise that he often makes when it's clear that while he has understood each of the words I've just spoken, he has no idea what I've said. It brought me to a full and mirthful laugh. Well how about that, Sook? Getting the 'merry' part of the affair in good and early.

Once I'd got the food put away, we exchanged our presents. Niall was very pleased with the watch and examined it quite carefully before tucking it into his pocket. I received a golden hairbrush with bristles so soft that I knew they could not have come from any creature in this world.

"When you use it, your hair will shine like the gold of the handle, not that it is not already very beautiful," he smiled.

"It's wonderful," I said, testing it out. To my surprise, it flowed smoothly through my hair. It felt so nice that I almost did not want to stop brushing, but personal grooming in front of an audience does not appeal, so I stopped myself. Niall continued to smile fondly.

"And now I think that you have something more to tell me."

"Yes," I agreed. "I've told Eric Northman about our family, or at least, that I am related to you."

"I know."

"How?"

"He contacted me. He was displeased to have been kept in the dark."

If Niall was aware of the double meaning in his words, he didn't let on.

"Has he asked anything of you?" I inquired.

"No, he has not _asked_ for anything. Like you, he informed me that you have taken his blood."

Something of the loving air had fallen away from his tone, and before me suddenly sat the prince, and not the grandfather.

"And...may I ask your response, sir?"

"You are my blood, and the only thing that survives of my Einin. I do not wish to lose you."

"You wouldn't lose me," I frowned.

"That was my response," he agreed.

"Do you object to... my being in contact with him?"

"You were right in regards to his usefulness as an ally. Should he protect you, I do not object."

'But should he harm you, it's curtains for him,' was the unspoken end to my great grandfather's statement.

For some reason what he said gave me a weird sort of pleasure. No, not because I delighted in the idea that Niall would stake Eric faster than you can say Jack Robinson if he should harm me. Rather, what I gleaned from the exchange was that Niall had served the role of older male relative in a conversation with a prospective suitor of mine about his good intentions. I'm sure it was more along the lines of "don't drink all her blood," than "don't keep her out past curfew," but still. I was strangely tickled.

That seemed to be the end of the subject of Eric, and I took it as my cue to serve dessert. I didn't want to rush Niall of course, but I would have to leave soon to make it to church on time. Thankfully, he excused himself to leave before I had to drop any hints. I took the time to freshen my makeup and use my new hairbrush before I left. I studied myself in the mirror, swishing my head back and forth. It really did seem to shine a bit more. John Frieda's got nothing on fairy magic.

Free spots were a hot commodity in the parking lot of the Methodist church, but I managed to find one down at the end. I passed Jason's truck as I walked to the door, and my brother himself was outside talking to his buddy Hoyt Fortenberry while Hoyt smoked a cigarette. Jason leaned over and gave me a one armed hug in greeting.

"Hey sis."

"Hey brother. Hey Hoyt. Gran and Hadley here yet?"

"Not yet."

"Is your momma around Hoyt?" I said, holding up the pie I'd brought. If Maxine was not in charge of running the reception that would follow the service herself, she would certainly be able to point me to the woman in charge.

Why did I have pie with Niall if I knew there'd be dessert again after church? Because it's Christmas, that's why.

Hoyt pointed me inside and I went looking for the kitchen, following the dimly lit corridor leading away from the main sanctuary. The kitchen was on my right and there were several older gals doing what they could to get the giant urn of coffee to percolating and taking cookies out of Tupperware containers and putting them onto platters. I took a moment to say hello to those I knew, most of them, and to thank Maxine for the card she'd sent me.

This is a small town and I vaguely recognized most of the people here by sight, and most of them recognized me. I was happy, when I dared to listen, that most were of the opinion that college and living in Shreveport had improved me from the strange and unnerving child they had known. I must be looking nice tonight since that seemed to be on plenty of people's minds when they saw me as well.

For goodness sake Mike Spencer, we are in _church_.

I made my way back to Jason and Hoyt just as Hadley turned up laden with the giant punch bowl that Gran would be loaning to the evening's festivities. Hoyt took it and thrust it into my brother's arms so he could scoop Hadley up in a hug, spinning her around.

"Hadley Delahoussaye as I live and breathe," he beamed. No one saw the need to correct him about her name.

Gran came on the group then, and shooed Jason inside to deliver the punchbowl and the two bottles of coke she'd brought along. Once we moved inside again it was Hadley who became and remained the center of attention. No one said a word about where she'd been or how she'd left; everyone in the congregation was just pleased to see her. I knew that was mostly on Gran's account. Hadley looked fleetingly overwhelmed at the attention but adjusted quickly. Before her downward spiral had started, Hadley had been a popular girl and a cheerleader in high school, and that's the version of her people chose to remember. I hoped this acceptance would do her some good.

Predictably, the Christmas pageant was very cute. Though they were supposed to be solemn, the kids were all grinning and proud, which was fine. I enjoyed the music and the sermon and the joyful feeling that permeated the atmosphere. I even let my shields down enough to take more in. It was a rare treat.

After the service we all gathered to drink coffee out of Styrofoam cups and nibble on wonderful sweets. The man stuck out in the crowd because he was very handsome and unfamiliar. I would have remembered seeing him around before, any girl would. He had fair skin and reddish-brown hair that hung below his ears, pale eyes, and a perfect pouting mouth. Even from across the room, I could tell that his body was strong. He was tall, over six foot, I thought, but not quite as tall as Eric. When I first spotted him, he was talking to Gran. Later on he was with Hadley.

I couldn't seem to make my way over. I wasn't trying to horn in or anything, I just wanted a better look. Nothing wrong with looking. I kept getting waylaid by people wanting to wish me a Merry Christmas or share their happiness about Hadley's homecoming, and then I'd lose sight of the man.

When the crowd thinned out a bit, I suddenly realized that I alone of my family remained in the room. I quickly found Gran in the kitchen, busy helping to pack up. She wanted to, as she hadn't been there to set up. I went off looking for Hadley and Jason and found them right outside the doors. Jason had a grip on Hadley's arm and was speaking to her in a low, but unmistakably angry voice.

"It's Christmas, goddammit, you don't go off with no strange man!"

"I wasn't, I -" she tried to argue.

"I don't want to hear it. Now Gran's been through hell and back these last few years and you're not gonna turn up here again then start right back with your old ways."

He gave her arm a little shake then, emphasizing his point, and I was torn between stepping in to intervene and cheering him on. The decision was taken out of my hands when he looked up and saw me standing there. He dropped Hadley's arm then stepped back inside without a word.

"Everything okay?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, it's fine. Jason just misunderstood, is all."

"Alright..."

"We were just walking, it got crowded in there."

"Who was that guy?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just some guy who was talking to Gran."

We headed back to help with the cleanup. Jason moved a couple of tables before he decided he'd done his part. When Gran asked me if I was planning to spend the night, I told her I wasn't about to impose and would see her tomorrow. Normally I would have slept at her house, but with Hadley here I wasn't about to inconvenience her with getting one of the upstairs bedrooms habitable. When she realized I'd be driving back to Shreveport, she swatted me on the butt and told me to get a move on then. She didn't want me out driving late.

It was barely past eleven by the time I got home. My house was warm and it smelled of cinnamon and cloves. I'd had two cups of coffee and was anything but tired. I switched the television on and found the remake of Miracle on 34th Street. I was barely settled when the knock came at the door. I hit the mute button.

Eric was there in jeans and a t-shirt. I suddenly felt overdressed in my velvet skirt and satiny blouse.

"Hey," I greeted.

"Hello."

"Want to come in?"

He stepped inside and stilled as he scented the air. I watched cautiously as he processed the aroma of fairy that lingered in the air after Niall's visit.

"It smells wonderful in here, Sookie," he said huskily.

"Yes, gingerbread and sugarplum fairies."

Since he appeared to be simply reveling in the scent rather than preparing for a murderous rampage in the direction of yours truly, I walked past him into the living room and sat back down. He appeared at the doorway a moment later and looked me over before approaching.

"Your hair looks lovely tonight."

"Thank you. Niall gave me a new hairbrush."

"I've brought you something as well," he said, and handed me a small box, plainly wrapped. I'd noticed him holding it, but I didn't like to presume.

When he sat down beside me I asked, "Should I open it now?" and he nodded.

It was a slim brown leather case with a small feather embossed on the top. Opening it, I saw that it was silk lined with two narrow slots, one of which was occupied by the silver knife that he had borrowed, the other would fit the gold knife currently residing in my nightstand. I smiled at him.

"It's perfect, thank you. I'm sorry, but I don't have anything for you. I didn't think you would celebrate Christmas."

"I don't."

I smiled again. Just for me, then.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest thing?"

"I assure you that here and now, that is you."

I managed to shake my head out of the little trance I'd fallen into. Overt references to the taste and smell of your blood will tend to do that, but I didn't lose my smile.

"Do you know the meaning of the embossment?" He asked. I'd closed the case and was tracing the smooth leather with my fingertips. Nervous energy, I suppose.

"It's for Amun, right? That's the clan territory we are in?" I was pretty sure, but he confirmed it with a nod and I set the thing down on the table.

"So, how did it go in New Orleans?"

He took my hand and held it in his far hand, effortlessly maneuvering his near arm around me. Along with his touch came the enveloping silence of his mind and I made a soft noise of contentment. I think I must like that as much as he likes the fairy smell. I settled back against him comfortably and he let his fingertips trail up and down my arm as he talked.

"Clancy is dead. At one point I feared she would not do it simply to show that she would not bend to my wishes, but it was really the only apt judgment that could have been made." After a moment, he continued, "She did enjoy trotting me out as an underling, but in the end I got my way. As you said, it is a small price to pay for relative autonomy."

"And you've re-upped on the deference for a while, I guess."

"Yes."

"How was Arkansas?"

Eric let out a derisive snigger. "He is a very ambitious vampire. He is eager to win the Queen's affection."

"What's she like?" I asked.

"Shrewd, clever. Calculating. Sentimental," he answered without hesitation. "She seems to inspire devotion, which is a useful thing in a monarch. She has managed to keep all of her children close throughout their lives and that is rare."

"You sound like you admire her."

"I respect her." After a moment he asked, "And what about you, what did you do this week?"

I told him about Hadley.

"This is the daughter of your father's sister?"

"Yes." The smooth rhythm of his fingers faltered slightly before it resumed. "Speaking of my relations, I understand you've talked to Niall."

"Yes," he agreed, and offered nothing more.

"And you met with Cataliades too."

"I did."

"Why?"

"When he came to me with the offer to take money to keep your secret, I saw no reason to refuse it."

"And now?"

"Now, it has occurred to me that my taking payment inhibits your ability to trust me."

"You want me to trust you, why?"

"If I am to give you protection, you must feel confident to approach me with information, pertaining to either the threat or yourself. Beyond that, fucking you will be far more enjoyable for us both if you are neither reserved nor frightened of me."

I laughed.

"You say that like it's a foregone conclusion."

He caught the side of my breast with his fingertips on his next pass. He didn't linger, but I had my answer. I suppose it was a silly question.

"Are you going to bite me?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

He turned, and also turned me toward him then, pulling my hair out of the way and started to kiss my neck. Was he going to do it now and then the sex would come after? I tensed up and was met with only a playful nip from his blunt teeth.

"Calm," he whispered, as if soothing a frightened animal.

His kissed and nuzzled his way up my jaw, stroking with more certainty at my shoulders and across my chest. I pressed my hand to him tentatively, and began to let it run across the contours of his own chest and shoulders, then down and up his arms. When both of us were craving more contact he dropped his hand to my knee and ran it up the outside of my thigh, dragging my skirt along with it. As he reached my hip he pulled me across him so I sat straddling his lap.

He bent his head to my chest and I barely realized he was working at removing it before my shirt was slipping from my shoulders, and then he removed my bra. He murmured in appreciation and then looked back at me. I saw his fangs were completely down again and reached up to touch them lightly with my fingertips. I brushed across his lips and he kissed my hand before bending his head to what he assured me were beautiful and perfect breasts.

I let my fingers run through his hair. My nails grazed lightly across the back of his neck. I felt my hips rock against him slightly as he finally circled my nipple with his tongue and that seemed to do it. Before I could blink, he'd swept me up bridal style and was carrying me to the bedroom. I scooted back when he placed me on the bed, pushing the covers down around me and he took that moment to rid himself of his own clothes. When I realized he was naked, I pulled the zipper and started to push down at my skirt and panties but in short order he was there, crouching over me and whisking them away. He gazed down at me appreciatively. I didn't think I'd ever been so grateful as I was in that moment, to have no idea what he was thinking.

His hands slid up my thighs and he pulled me back towards him. His mouth found mine again and his fingers found their way to my center, matching the rhythm of his lips on mine. I moaned under him, spreading my legs further. I clung tightly to his neck when I started to shudder.

"Thank you," I whispered. He'd stroked me slowly as my breathing came down.

"Don't thank me yet, lover. I am not done with you," he purred.

I followed his hand with my eyes as he let it run down his chest and grip his own length. I hadn't really looked before, and he was... I swallowed. Watching him touch himself was so erotic I almost didn't want to stop him, but that thought was overruled by my desire to touch him. I leaned forward letting my fingers wrap around him, mimicking the motion I'd seen him use. After a few moments I got a little adventurous on my own, encouraged by his moans. He hissed when I dragged my nails across his taut nipple. When I nipped it with my teeth that seemed to ignite him.

He was on me in a blink, hand back between my legs. When he found me slick he replaced his fingers with his penis, rubbing up and down until I was desperate to have him inside me. I clutched at his arms and told him I was ready. I was sure that I was. When he pushed in I cried out and he stilled. I was gasping, trying to relax myself and adjust to his size, when he pulled out again. I whimpered. I wanted him to stay.

Then he was kissing down my body again and I watched in fascination as his mouth reached my sex. He was just as talented kissing me down there as he was everywhere else. More so really. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back and he stopped just as abruptly. When I looked back at him, his eyes were shining and he started to kiss me again. This time I kept watching him. I felt his fingers enter me again, finding that spot that when he pressed and stroked I couldn't help but moan. I felt wanton and sexy and knew I was coming to the brink again. His mouth moved to my thigh, his thumb replacing his tongue on my pleasure center, and just when I was _right there_, I felt him bite down and this time when I sang out it was in pure ecstasy.

He was inside me again while I was still shivering from the aftershocks and his mouth found mine. I could taste myself on him and another powerful wave of lust and abandon shot through me. Our kiss went on and on as he drove into me, until finally he was coming and I was right there with him. I thought maybe I had never left that golden abyss. He shouted something in a language I didn't know, didn't even recognize, as he let his own eyes close and let his weight fall on top of me.

It felt wonderful to have him there, all around me. He was so still, but I could feel him; feel the life in him, even though he wasn't panting, as I was. When he finally rolled away, he brought me with him holding me close, seeming unwilling to let me go.

I had been dead on right about my ability to enjoy sex, given the right partner. I giggled at the thought.

"What has you laughing, my lover?" he asked softly. I liked the way it sounded when he called me that. He might be the only man in the world who could get away with it.

"I never thought...that was just wonderful, Eric. You did _such_ a good job."

He laughed too then, and I loved the sound. "I'm glad you approve."

I looked down the length of his long body, all sculpted muscle and faintly glowing, then back to his face, still painted with a contentment I'd not yet seen there.

"You're really beautiful," I told him. He looked at me with such surprise that for a second I felt uneasy. "I know you know it. I just wanted you to know that I thought that."

He kissed me again and started to stroke lightly across my hair, my cheek, my body, my breasts.

"You are gorgeous," he said between kisses. "And delicious. Alluring. Sensuous. And mine," he told me. By the time he'd finished he was pulling me up to straddle him again.

I was tempted to argue a couple of those points but I overruled the impulse. I settled over him with my hands pressed to his chest and silently shushed the rest of my reservations in favor of enjoying the moment.

* * *

A/N: Who doesn't like a little Christmas in July, right? ;)


	19. Spitting Vampires

A/N: The SVM universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by the snazzy and supercool Ms. FiniteAnarchy.

* * *

Chapter 19 - Spitting Vampires

The following morning felt like...well it felt just like Christmas morning, come to that. Eric left close to dawn and I was quite sure that he had enjoyed the night before as much as I had. He'd left his fang marks on my thigh, as if I needed the reminder. I felt him all over when I woke, a bit later than normal but far earlier than I ought to have considering the time I went to sleep.

If the sex with Eric last night was any indication of his general performance, I'd definitely be going back for seconds. Or fourths? fifths? I'd lost track of my orgasms. Last night all counts as one time, right? So yeah, seconds.

I showered and dressed, much more casually today than last night. I had all the gifts loaded into shopping bags, wrapped and ready to go and I carried them out to the car and drove to Bon Temps. My brother was already there when I arrived which meant I was probably even later than I thought. He was in the kitchen munching on some pastry when I arrived and he met me with a sly look.

I'm familiar with the idea that a woman thoroughly made-love-to tends to show it the following day. There's a certain light in the eyes, a glow to the skin, a sort of smile that lingers on her lips. It's an indefinable quality of sheer _contentment_ and I could see through my brother's eyes that I had it in spades.

"Morning, Sook. You look like _you_ had a good night last night."

I raised my eyebrows at him and he continued to grin, at least until I asked, "And whose bed did _you_ crawl out of this morning, brother?"

That wiped the smirk off his face, if only for a moment.

"Well we weren't talking about me."

"I had a quiet night at home," I said, stretching the truth a bit on the "quiet" part.

"Uh-huh," he said disbelievingly.

"Morning, Merry Christmas!" Hadley said as she joined us. She looked between he and I, caught in our staring contest. I lost when I looked to her and returned her greeting.

"Everything alright?" she hazarded.

"Just fine," I smiled.

"Sookie's got a secret boyfriend," Jason announced.

At the same moment I reflexively spouted, "I have not!" Hadley began to "Ooo," with interest.

"What's he like?" Hadley asked.

"When do we get to meet him? Where's he at today? With his family?"

"He's..." I stuttered.

"Oh so there _is_ a he!" Jason said triumphantly.

Irrationally, I went completely flushed. I suddenly felt half my age, standing here in the same darn kitchen being ganged up on by the pair of them. Jason's problem was that he didn't quite know how to act around Hadley. Unfortunately for me, the closest thing that felt normal to him thrust them both back in the roles of teasing and juvenile antagonizers. All we needed now was for me to blurt out the nastiest secrets I happened to have read from either of their minds lately, then run crying to my room.

"Oh grow up Jason," I muttered, and stalked past them to find Gran.

I gave her a hug and a kiss in greeting then unpacked the presents and in the few minutes that passed, I settled back into the happy feeling I'd had since waking up.

There was a steady stream of visitors to the house throughout the afternoon. Many of Gran's friends stopped by to bring her little gifts and miraculously she seemed to have something for everyone in return. They were small exchanges; a loaf of cranberry nut bread for a mincemeat pie, an embroidery pattern for a set of recipe cards, a jar of raspberry preserves for a jar of blackberry. It was heartwarming to see her so well loved. Perhaps Gladiola and Diantha would visit me at home tonight so I could give them their gifts. I probably should have just shipped them to Mr. C's office where his basket was delivered. Oh well.

Jason was well pleased with the belt sander I got him. He's always doing projects to maintain and improve his house and would get a lot of use out of it. Gran absolutely adored her quilt, and Hadley was touched to receive the necklace and earrings. She'd lost her all her costume jewelry in the dumpster. In return, I received a sweater and shirt set from Gran and an art nouveau brooch which had been her mother's in gold and pearl. My brother got me a bird bath to go out in the yard. It was a pretty substantial thing. I might need his help setting it up. Hadley had given me a small basket of things for the bath. I was touched that she had found time to do some shopping, and that she'd spent some of the little money she had on me; on all of us really.

Gran had to excuse herself to the bathroom during dinner, another symptom of her advancing age which we, her grandchildren, noted but didn't comment on. During a lull in conversation, my brother started up on Eric again.

"I keep waiting for one of these visitors at the door to be your new man, sis."

Tscha.

"I don't see why he wouldn't want to stop by and meet your family..."

Even Hadley was smirking. It was just too much. I set down my knife and fork and treated Jason to a hard stare.

"He won't be by," I told my brother coolly, "because he is a vampire. He's asleep right now. And he's not my _boyfriend, _he's just... someone I'm seeing." I tried to sound worldly and indifferent, as if the circumstance of me casually seeing someone were not a first time occurrence. Jason was gaping like a fish out of water by the time I'd finished.

"You're dating a vamper!"

"I don't know if you could call it _dating_." It was an immature response, yes, but he'd been trying to get a rise out of me all day so it was only fair.

"My sister's a fuckin' fangbanger?"

"Jason Stackhouse, you watch your mouth!" came our grandmother's commanding voice as she rejoined us in the kitchen.

Jason wasn't about to go down without trying to defend himself and rally support for his cause. "Did you hear what your granddaughter is doing up in Shreveport?" He asked, outraged.

Apparently she'd heard all of it.

"Mr. Northman seems like an agreeable man," she informed my brother in a clipped voice.

"You've met him!"

"He came by to check on your sister when she was ill, which is more than I can say for you."

"You were ill?" Hadley asked me, trying valiantly to change the subject.

"Blood poisoning," I told her.

"A goddamn vampire!" my brother huffed. "Sookie, I've seen those girls that go with vamps. I never would have thought you were the type." He was truly ashamed of me.

He was just about to go on when Hadley interrupted, "Oh cut the crap Jason, lots of people date vampires."

"Yeah, but I never thought Sookie would turn out like you!"

Hadley didn't _date_ vampires or do anything else with them. She'd been with the Were since just after the Revelation, but my brother had made his assumptions and the insult was plain.

My attention was jerked away from Hadley's stricken face by the dish-rattling thud of my grandmother's hand falling hard on the wood.

"Jason, leave my table."

"I'm the-"

"Right now."

My brother slammed back his chair and it fell to the ground as he stomped out the back door.

"I'm sorry to both of you girls," Gran said, when he'd gone. She cut herself another angry bite of her dinner and I felt her frustration. We sat there in silence for a minute, Hadley and I exchanging a worried look as Gran brooded over her glazed ham.

Suddenly the porch door banged open again and we all looked up, bracing ourselves for round two. Jason's face was ghostly pale and he looked terrified.

"F-fire!" he shouted.

We were all startled. When no one made to move for a second he rushed forward and tried to get Gran up around her elbows.

"Propane tank! Get out the front! Go now!" he yelled at us. It took another second for any of us three to react. "Go!"

Then, we were all four scrambling to our feet and making for the front door. Jason was guiding Gran, and Hadley and I held back so he wouldn't be hindered by us as he hustled her out. I grabbed up my purse from the living room table and Hadley ran back to her room to grab the same. I heard her going down the hall and knew she was getting Gran's too. Jason was only a few steps down the driveway with Gran by the time we emerged.

He had his arms caged around our grandmother and was caught up in a weird tangle as he tried to hasten and lead her all at the same time. Finally she threw him off her and moved into a surprising trot down the gravel drive. Hadley ran ahead and I saw the look of horror cross her face as she turned back towards us. Glancing back over my shoulder I saw the great plume of flame blossoming up into the sky, even higher than the house, and then it vanished.

"Is it out?" Hadley cried.

I shook my head, no, and urged her to keep moving. Sometime before we reached the edge of the long driveway I got my wits about me long enough to pull out my phone and dial 911. I told the dispatcher that our propane tank seemed to be on fire and that the relief valve was already going. That's what would account for the great plumes of flame. When the internal pressure builds up due to the heat, some of the gas will release. It's a safeguard on the device. Thirty feet of fire shooting into the air might sound terrifying, and truly, it _is_ terrifying, but even in my panic I knew it was a far better alternative to the tank exploding. That was the fear that had us running.

When we finally got up by the road we were far enough away that I could see the edge of the tank in the back yard. It was at some distance from the house, of course. That had always rankled Gran. No amount of shrubbery placed around its perimeter could disguise it from looking like exactly what it was. In that moment I found myself extremely grateful that she'd never updated to a newer model, the painted kind that could go flush against the back wall, or even under the porch. I had no idea how long the fire had been going. It had to be for a while if the emergency valve was releasing. As I had the thought, the gout of flame blew up again like a massive blowtorch. That was not good, it happening again so fast.

We watched for a minute. The fire wasn't touching the house, and that was fine, but it didn't mean we were out of danger. I started to worry that we weren't far away enough when I heard my brother start to wonder if he should run back and try to move his truck. I clutched his arm.

"Jason, don't you dare," I warned him, but that only seemed to make his mind up. Even in the crisis he hadn't forgotten he was pissed at me. With a hard look, he threw me off and suddenly he was sprinting back across the lawn, determined to get his most prized possession out of the blast zone. We all three of us screamed after him, but he just ran towards the house like he was going in for a touchdown. I followed him, visually and mentally, and that's when I caught the fuzzy brain in the trees across the yard. My eyes tore away from Jason and I strained to see or hear the stranger, but the distance was too great, and when the valve went off again, my cousin screamed and I refocused on Jason. When I went to look for whoever it was in the woods again, they were gone.

Gran was hunched over panting, her hand on her chest. It seemed like a long time before Jason reached his truck and was gunning it straight towards us. I knew it was only seconds. I don't think he even had the door shut before he threw the thing into gear and hit the gas.

He made it to us safely.

Hadley practically pulled him out of the truck and started repeatedly punching him in the chest calling him the biggest fucking idiot on God's whole green earth. I couldn't disagree, and Gran couldn't either. She seemed like she was having trouble breathing and that had me more worried.

We finally heard the distant sirens coming and I caught the first flash of light from the firetruck rumbling down the road just as a horrible sound drew my attention back to the yard. I threw my body in front of Gran's instinctively as our entire field of vision went orange. I had to shield my face as the wave of heat hit us. I heard it shake the house. The massive fireball belched into the sky and then there was only thick black smoke.

Suddenly the firemen were streaming past us.

"Is there any other tank?" one screamed, and I shook my head no.

Gran had slumped to the ground behind me and then there were paramedics there, giving her oxygen and hurriedly checking her vitals.

"She's having a heart attack," I heard someone say.

"I need a stretcher over here!"

I tried to get to her, but there were people pushing me away. My eyes fell on Hadley who'd gone pale and seemed to be the only thing standing still in the chaos.

We watched as they eased our grandmother on to a gurney and started taking her over to the ambulance. I shook myself out of shock and grabbed Hadley's hand, following after our grandmother. I got the attention of one of the EMTs.

"This is Hadley Savoy and that is our grandmother. She's going with you."

The guy nodded and Hadley nodded and they let her up in to ride in the back with Gran as they whisked her away to the hospital.

I could see fire on the roof of the house now and steam and smoke coming up from the back yard. Jason found me and dragged me over to his truck, standing me up against the side of it to keep me out of the way.

A second firetruck pulled up at one point. I wondered if they'd run out of water in the first one.

There were scorch marks all across the lawn where burning debris had flown.

For an absolute miracle, the house was still standing. The back wall, which comprised Gran's room and the unused upstairs bedrooms, was scorched and some of the siding had blown off. Windows upstairs and down had broken in the blast. I laughed when they explained the cause of the house's salvation, to the point where Bud Dearborn started remembering that I'd always been regarded as a little off-kilter. Jason put his arm around me and tried to make like I was just hysterical from the whole ordeal. I couldn't say he was entirely wrong.

The roof - that god-damned tin roof which Gran has always loved and I have always hated; the one that she'd insisted on no matter how many times we tried to sway her in the direction of proper shingles when we had it replaced this past spring - had stopped the burning fuel and the debris from falling back to the house and catching it on fire. Twenty years and the thing has done nothing but get my ire up every rain shower or windy day.

"That stupid roof," I choked out, marveling, as my brother patted my shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed. He knew.

Since I'd arrived last, my car had been largely shielded from the explosion by the house. Gran's was a different story. It had taken some shrapnel to the hood and the windshield and we had no idea if it would still turn on. That was a problem for another day.

Jason and I stood watching the men come and go and I tried to thank as many as I could for coming to save Gran's house, and for doing it on Christmas. Finally I realized that my phone was ringing, and I answered the number I didn't recognize and discovered it was Hadley calling from the hospital.

Immediately I snapped to, and hated myself for forgetting about Gran's wellbeing for even a few minutes. She had indeed had a mild heart attack. She was stable at Granger Memorial.

"I'm going," I told Jason. "Can you finish out here?"

He nodded. "I'll be by when everyone's cleared out."

"Okay," I agreed.

With the permission of the police, I was allowed to leave. They had questioned Jason and I, and would be heading to the hospital later to question Hadley and Gran, should she be well enough. Since we'd all been inside together the whole time until Jason had gone out and discovered the fire, we didn't have much to say to them. I said I thought I'd seen someone at the edge of the woods, but I hadn't gotten a good look and could have been mistaken. Jason hadn't seen anybody. We'd had people on and off the property all day, and they wanted those names. We gave them the information but I didn't think Pinkie Arnett or Marcia Albanese had come here under the guise of trading baked goods to light Gran's house on fire.

When I arrived at the hospital I found Hadley out by the front entrance smoking a cigarette. I didn't think she was still a smoker, but someone else who'd been out here must have offered her one to calm her nerves.

"How is she?" I asked.

"They're running tests on her. I've been in the waiting room, but I just had to get outside."

I nodded. I wasn't exactly looking forward to going into a hospital either. I'd take a nightclub any day of the week.

We went inside together but it was another couple of miserable hours later before they let us in to see Gran, during which time the police came, talked to Hadley, and went. By then Jason had arrived. That was good because Gran's primary concern, even from her hospital bed, was in touching each of the three of us to assure herself that we were all well. Once she'd done that though, she was ready to get some sleep. Hadley wanted to stay, but reluctantly agreed that she'd do better spending the night at Jason's house. After a goodbye that was tearful mostly as a means of venting everyone's pent up emotions, I drove back to Gran's house with Hadley and Jason following behind in his truck.

Of course the dinner was just exactly as we'd left it, so I settled into putting all the food away while Jason collected his gifts to load into the back of his truck and Hadley packed her meager belongings into a shopping bag to serve her overnight. Jason asked if I wanted the marble birdbath loaded but I declined. I'd try to load it myself, reasoning that if I couldn't, I wouldn't very well be able to get it out of the car, either, and would just get him to drive it up some other time.

Because their tasks were completed before mine, Jason and Hadley ended up back in the kitchen, and picked at the leftovers I'd yet to wrap in tin foil or transfer to Tupperware.

"Did the police say what might have happened?" I asked Jason.

"They're talking about getting an arson investigator out here tomorrow. Did you really see a guy in the woods?"

"Heard," I said with a shrug and a tap of my head. "When you were running back to your truck, which incidentally, was the dumbest thing I've seen you do in twenty-six years."

Hadley was nodding her stout approval at my last statement, but Jason just sighed.

"Well? What was he thinking?" my brother asked.

"I didn't get any thoughts. Some people... I can't hear very well, and I wasn't close enough to be sure."

I was definitely allowing for the probability that it was a supe, but shifter, fairy, demon, or something else, I couldn't know. It could also have just been the rare snarly-minded human. Mentally-ill people can be hard to read as well sometimes. Someone who went around setting fires on Christmas could easily fall into that category.

"Hadley, I know she's had her vengeance, but do you think there is any chance that this could have been Camille?"

Hadley looked startled. The idea had not occurred to her.

"I don't know. She was mad but not... I don't know," she shook her head.

"Right, well, until we do know, let's everyone be real careful of strangers, okay? That means you too, Jason, even strange women."

"You really think a woman could have done this?" my brother asked.

"I don't know why _anybody_ would have done this, but I'm not willing to count anyone out," I said.

I finished slicing up the ham and got it sorted into neat packages. There was a lot of food - too much to fit in the refrigerator. I sent a large portion home with Jason, as Gran would have done, and took some for myself. I didn't linger very long after Had and Jason went off. The house was tidy and it was getting pretty cold. I thought about asking Jason to help me put up plastic sheeting over the cracked windows, but we decided that until we had a contractor out, it would not be wise to go stomping around that side of the house. I shut up all the bedrooms and locked the front and side doors. It would have to do for tonight.

It was later than I realized when I saw the clock in the car on the way home. If I had ended up with any visitors tonight, they wouldn't have found me at home. As soon as I had the thought I began to worry. What if I_ did_ have a visitor today that had found me, not at home, but at Gran's? It was entirely possible that the matter with Haagenti was not as settled as we thought. He seemed to have ended it with Mintah, but he hadn't specifically agreed not to harm me, or Eric, or any of the eagles, or even Hob and Leonard. Then of course there was always the threat of Niall's enemies among the fae. Had they found me?

I'm alone so often, there would be far better opportunities... but was that really true? I go from my house, which is warded, to my job, which is guarded, or out to do my shopping or visit the library, where there are lots of other people around. I guess they could get me in my car? But purebred fairies don't drive cars because cars are made of steel and steel is made of iron.

I found no answers whatsoever; only more questions.

I wasn't sure who to contact. At this point, it wasn't an emergency. I didn't even know what the threat was, or even if it was for certain aimed at me, so calling Niall or Cataliades seemed pointless. Niall wouldn't care, much, and Cataliades couldn't do anything. I wished I had someone impartial just to talk to about my crazy day.

I thought of Eric, but I had no idea if such a call would be welcome. His club had closed early last night, which is why he'd come over at all, but it would be going full swing by now. Yes it was still technically Christmas, but after spending all day with their families a lot of people want to go out, have a drink, and blow off steam. I could certainly understand the impulse, especially after the argument with Jason earlier. Bar owners would be smart to open their doors tonight, and shrewd business seemed to be what Fangtasia was all about.

Apart from the fact that I knew he was busy, I hadn't just been playing it cool with my brother. At no point last night had Eric and I declared what the meaning of our having sex was, beyond him reiterating that I was "his"; a point I'd been too blissed out to argue. I was intrigued by the idea of "just seeing where it goes." It was thrilling to not be sure how he felt about me. I wanted to have that experience, to just enjoy the excitement of a new, maybe-relationship.

Not that I'm immune to romantic fantasies, but I guess I've spent too long by now forcing myself to take the realistic view. Such things, if they did exist, were not for me. I hated to sound so cynical, even to myself, but there it was. And if it all ends in heartache, well, better to have lusted and lost, yada, yada, yada. That would be a new one for me as well, and I'd do my best to take it in my stride.

Either way, I wasn't going to start calling him up like some clingy fangbanger after just one night of delicious sexing. He could call me first. Yes.

I went to bed feeling worn out, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The next day found me back at Gran's putting all her ducks in a row.

This fell to me both because I was the most responsible and because I had the time to do it. Like many businesses, Splendide is closed the week between Christmas and New Year's. That's nice for those who can go away on vacation. It's not really a possibility for me, but for the others it was great. It's really the only break Brenda gets all year. She takes the occasional long weekend, but there's no one else who can take over her job for an extended period of time. Holly loved having this week, since school wasn't in session and she could spend it with her son.

I called John Robert Briscoe, whose name was listed on a magnet on the side of her refrigerator as being Gran's insurance agent. Using Jason's recommendation, I contacted Randall Shurtliff about getting the back of the house fixed up. Unfortunately, he told me over the phone that while he'd try to make it out today for an estimate, there was next to no chance the work could be completed in the next day or two, which meant Gran would either be coming to stay with me or going to Jason's temporarily. That was probably going to be for the best, since she'd require a bit of TLC for a while after being released from the hospital. I called the police department, because we were told to expect the arson investigator today. He was evidently on loan from a neighboring jurisdiction (Bon Temps is too small to merit specialization) and would be arriving sometime in the afternoon.

Since everything seemed to be put off for a time, I packed up an early lunch for Hadley and I before heading over to visit Gran.

She was ready to be done with the hospital but unfortunately for her, the doctors were keeping her right where she was for at least three more days. Gran tried to downplay the seriousness of what had brought her here, but a heart attack is a heart attack, mild or not, and I wasn't going to be fooled. Suddenly I was very grateful that Hadley would be around and staying with her for the recuperation.

I hadn't brought lunch for Gran because I didn't know what kind of special diet she'd be put on, though I was certain there would be one. She watched a little sadly as we enjoyed ham sandwiches while she ate yogurt and boiled chicken and something that looked like mashed banana. I looked at her chart, because it was there hanging from the end of her bed, but I got nothing out of it. I would do better with actual hieroglyphics than the strange figures and markings on that tablet.

A self-styled Sunshine Lady arrived with her cart full of goodies, and I was pleased to see that Gran had a delivery of flowers from her Descendants group, sent to brighten her day and speed her recovery. Word travels fast in a small town, and I had no doubt that anyone who hadn't received their briefing this morning would read about the whole incident in the Bon Temps Bugle tomorrow. I couldn't stay very long so I asked Hadley if she wanted a ride back with me.

"I'm going to stay on here for a while long. I can get a ride back with Wallace, he said he'd be stopping by again in the afternoon."

"Wallace?" I asked.

"Fellow from church," Gran supplied. "He was in this morning. He's a good boy."

It was really chilly inside Gran's house when I got back, so I hauled in some wood and started a fire. It seemed wrong, but I was already wearing a shirt and a sweater and it was the only practical means of making heat with no fuel for the furnace. I went ahead and ignored the irony as I lit the kindling. I assumed I would be busy so I hadn't brought anything over to keep me entertained. I found one of Gran's Danielle Steele novels on the shelf in the living room and tried to get into it but I had too many thoughts bubbling around my brain to settle down on reading.

Instead I found myself casting out my mind, pushing to see just how far I could go when I gave it my total concentration. This isn't something I can do at home, because eventually I would hit my neighbors. It was a nice exercise, and relaxing. Sort like mental yoga; stretching and holding - until I came across a brain.

The second I brushed the mind, it vanished. I tried to mentally "chase" after it, but it got too far away too quickly. Something was definitely lurking in Gran's woods, and I was more convinced than ever that it was supernatural. I suddenly remembered that I wanted to get in touch with Holly Cleary. I chewed it over for a minute, trying to decide just how to ask her what I needed to before I dialed her number at home.

"Hello?" I could hear the television and laughter in the background.

"Hi Holly, it's Sookie calling, I'm so sorry to interrupt your vacation."

"Oh, that's alright, I'm on forty-eight hours of solid kid-time. The interruption is welcome," she chuckled.

"Mmhmm," I answered, not knowing what else to say to that. "Listen this is maybe a little awkward."

"Okay..."

I breathed in a little confidence. "I know that you're a practicing Wiccan. I was wondering if you and your coven ever do anything with protective warding?"

She was quiet for a long moment. I didn't need to be able to read her thoughts to know that she spoke of this subject to a perceived outsider like me with a great deal of trepidation. After all, this is still the heavily-Baptist South, and "witch" is still very much an epithet.

"We don't really do a lot with the practical side of things on any scale," she said carefully. "Prayers for goodwill and good health, that is more what we are interested in."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "I hope I haven't offended you. We've just had some bad luck out here lately, and I was hoping maybe..."

"What's happened?" she asked.

I explained as briefly as I could about strongly-suspected arson and my Gran's attack.

"I can't think of any reason why anyone would want to hurt my grandmother, but I've read a little about protective charms, and really, I'm willing to try anything."

I took care to phrase this in such a way as to seem innocuous, as though I were merely someone who had read a little about the Wiccan faith. I did my best to imply through both my words and my tone that I considered protective warding to be no different than praying or blessing or any other rite or practice from any other religion.

When she continued in her silence I quickly said, "Holly, I'm sorry if this was inappropriate. Please forgive me if I've said the wrong thing."

"No," she said finally. "I was just thinking. I don't know anyone around here that does that sort of thing."

I was incredibly grateful to hear her confirm that she didn't even know Jack Mason. That particular coven was not an option for a few reasons, not the least of which was that they were totally misguided and misunderstanding of the basic nature of the supernatural and their own power. On top of that, I had no idea what might be triggered if I, who had been part of Jack's massive memory wipe, suddenly showed up on his doorstep. No, it was better if he and his just went their own way.

"But I do have some contacts in New Orleans that do...that. I think they charge for it, but, they are sisters in the craft. Good people," Holly finished.

This was a really delicate conversation on both sides, it seemed.

"I'd appreciate that, if you're willing to put me in touch. I'd feel a lot better about Gran coming home to this house if I did everything I could to ensure this place is safe for her."

"There's a place in the French Quarter, the Genuine Magic Shop. They would probably be able to help you there."

"Thank you so much Holly."

"You're welcome," Holly said, sounding almost as relieved as I was. "I had no idea you were open to this sort of thing."

I smiled wryly, to myself.

"There's too much we can't explain in this world to discount anything," I told her.

"True," she agreed thoughtfully. It's probably a very good thing that we had this conversation over the phone, rather than in person.

"Well, I'll let you get back to Cody," I said.

"Sure, Sookie. I'll talk to you next week, let me know how it goes. I hope your Gran makes a quick recovery."

"Thank you so much. Take care now."

Before I had a chance to see about getting in touch with the people at the magic shop, Mr. Briscoe, the insurance agent, arrived and we headed out back. While we were out there the arson expert, Dennis Pettibone turned up as well.

I was surprised by the amount of jagged metal that was around the yard, blown out in all directions when the tank had split apart. As if I hadn't known already, having a good look at everything in the light of day really drove home the point about how lucky we'd been. Dennis would be back again tomorrow with his full investigation kit, so we didn't like to disturb much. We found that the firemen had left behind the most intact portion of the propane tank behind and it was clear that the fracture point had been near the top. That meant the fuel had erupted upwards, rather than outwards, towards the house. After a while, the two of them departed, leaving me with business cards full of contact information.

As I walked him back to the front of the house, another car was pulling in. It was almost as busy around here today as yesterday. I figured it wasn't the contractor, who would almost certainly be driving a pickup truck. This was a little cloth-topped convertible. I spotted Hadley in the passenger seat. Both the cop and the insurance guy had to wait for the convertible to park before they could pull out. The driveway isn't wide enough for two cars to pass.

I recognized the driver of the sports car as the man I'd spotted both Hadley and Gran with on Christmas Eve. Rather than simply dropping her off, the man got out. Hadley was at my side quickly but the man seemed to be taking in the scene. I couldn't blame him. It's not every day you see something like this. I was struck again by how handsome this Wallace was, and how well dressed. He looked like a model out of GQ, not a guy from Bon Temps. He wore a crisp, seersucker shirt and dark blue trousers. He even had on driving gloves. He started to move towards us then, still looking around.

I wondered what he was thinking, so I dropped my shields to check, and instantly paled. He was not a man. Not a man at all. He was a fairy.

"You must be Hadley's cousin," he said, advancing. The voice was smooth, melodic. Through the dense tangle of his mind came a very clear thought.

_Three! One leads to three. Three should be plenty._

He was steps away from us then, and my eyes darted from him to the ground. His face was calm, but his eyes were cold.

"Lovely Hadley, I am terribly sorry."

I saw the glint of the silver dagger and dropped, grabbing for the nearest hunk of twisted shrapnel. I ignored the steel biting into my own palm and fingers as I thrust it upwards into his belly, just as he brought his blade down towards my cousin. I heard Hadley start to scream as I rose from my crouch, saw blood on my hand and was unsure if it belonged to me or the fairy. I gripped the metal harder and wrenched it upwards meeting no resistance. The fairy's eyes widened in pain and in shock and there was a soft thud as his weapon fell to the ground only an instant before he crumpled after it.

Hadley's scream had cut off, and we stared in horror at the corpse at our feet. I turned to look at her and she was clutching her shoulder. She hadn't escaped his attack entirely.

"You killed him," she whispered.

"He was going to kill us both."

My hand was shaking, and I dropped my own crude weapon to the ground. When he'd fallen, his head had turned a strange angle. His pointed ears were clearly visible.

"You killed him," Hadley said again. This time her voice, still shaking, came a little stronger.

"I killed him," I said. I'd killed someone. He had meant to kill me. He was trying to kill Hadley. "He's dead."

"Is he...was that..._a fairy_?" my cousin asked.

I gaped at her.


	20. Rise at a Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. I heard she finished DEA this week! Too bad we have to wait. Thanks as always to FiniteAnarchy who is the beta for this story. She continues to encourage me and give wonderful feedback.

She's got an an entry, "**Leave Me Alone To Cities Carved In Stone,**" in the IWTS contest, for which voting is open. You can check out the community page for user "I Write The Songs" where her story is listed along with 24 other entries. There are a lot of great stories in that collection; the contest seems to have been a huge success! If you are looking for something else to read, check them out. I've got one in there too.

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Chapter 20 - Rise at a Vampire

"It was, wasn't it," Hadley said, astonished.

I looked down at the crumpled figure of what had indeed been a fairy. It was a body now. I'd made him just a body now.

"We need to go inside," I told Hadley with an unnatural calm. I seized her arm, leading her back into Gran's house.

"Hello?"

"This is Sookie Stackhouse calling. I need to talk to Niall, please. Right now."

Hadley sat quietly in a chair at the kitchen table while I stood at the window with my phone pressed to my ear. I was having difficulty concentrating on keeping part of my mind open to any other brains that might be in the area while blocking her thoughts out. She was sure having a lot of them. In the end, I threw my shields up entirely so I could focus on the telephone.

"I'm sorry, but he is unavailable at the moment. Would you like to leave a message for him?"

"There is a dead fairy in my grandmother's yard."

There was a long pause. "A dead fairy?" the voice finally asked, sounding merely mildly curious.

"A very dead fairy," I informed the voice. "He tried to kill my cousin. She is here with me."

"How did he die?"

"Scrap metal to the abdomen."

"I see."

"So you think you could get a hold of Niall please?" I asked. I could hear my voice starting to go. "Really soon maybe?"

"Yes. I think I can do that."

"Okay, that would be great," I said. There was silence on the line, but it didn't go dead. "Maybe immediately?" I prompted.

"I will contact the prince immediately and let him know that there is a dead fairy in your grandmother's yard."

"Okay great." I said, and I hung up.

"Who...?" Hadley asked.

"Tell me what you know about fairies," I said to Hadley.

"Just that...I've heard they are real. Just like werewolves are real. But I didn't think they really..."

"Heard from whom?"

"From Camille. She used to say I smelled like one, sometimes."

That was just _perfect_. She won't explain about her own species enough so that her girlfriend can understand the obligations she has to her Were-pack, but makes freaking fairies a subject for pillow talk?

"We're going to need to talk more about Camille," I murmured.

Hadley was still clutching a hand to her shoulder. I could see that it was bloody. I wiped my hand down my pants leg as an absent minded gesture before I approached her to have a look at her injury and nearly stumbled as pain shot through me. I cried out involuntarily with the shock of it. There was a large gash across my palm and my fingers where I'd clutched my crude weapon.

I turned from Hadley to the sink and fumbled to turn the faucet on. The icy water stung like the dickens when I thrust my hand beneath it but it wasn't long before it had come down to a dull throb. When my hand was clean I grabbed a clean towel and held it in my fist before turning to tend to Hadley. She was nicked across her collar and though it bled a lot, it wasn't deep. She stripped off her shirt and sat there in her bra while I cleaned and bandaged the wound.

I started to worry about poison, but I had no idea how to test for its presence. Then I realized it didn't make much sense to poison a blade when you intended to use it to kill, and quickly. Fairy minds can be as difficult to read as shifters', but the fact that he planned to kill us both had been as plain as the nose on his beautiful, homicidal face. It would have been a waste of poison. I shook my head and muttered to myself and when I looked at her face, I didn't have to read Hadley's mind to know I was freaking her out. I forced myself to snap out of it.

"Go put on a clean shirt," I ordered her. I needed a moment alone.

As she left the kitchen I took a couple of deep centering breaths, and pushed my mind outward, ignoring the space in the house which contained the confused and worried jumble of my cousin's brain. We were alone. Good. I looked down to tend to my own wound then. The metal had bit into the crease of my hand where I'd clutched it, so there wasn't a lot that I could do to bandage the thing short of wrapping my entire hand up like an oven mitt. I didn't want to do that as I needed to be able to use my hand in case something else came back for us. I settled for Neosporin across my palm and a strip of gauze. Hadley returned to find me grappling with the tape and helped me sort myself out.

Once that was done I let her put Band-aids over the cuts on each of my fingers. She was glad to have something to busy her hands with and I was glad to put off the conversation we were about to have for another couple of minutes. When I was patched up as well as I could be I peeked out the window again. The fairy was still lying there. It takes a few minutes for them to start to turn to dust. It's not as quick as vampires.

"Is he still out there?" Hadley asked.

"Yes."

"Still dead?"

"Definitely dead."

"That was _really_ a fairy?"

I breathed out a sigh. I wanted to ask her a bunch of questions; what he'd said to her, how he'd approached her, what exactly she knew about the supernatural world, what Camille had told her. There was a more pressing matter.

"Hadley, do you remember when I graduated from high school and I got that visit from the lawyer from my mom's parents letting me know there was money for me to go to college?"

That had been the party line. It had pissed off Jason to no end, but he'd finished community college himself by then, and had no more tuition bills to worry about. He'd gotten over it, eventually. After all, he had our parents' house.

"Yeah?"

"Alright, well those people weren't here on behalf of my mom's family. They were here on behalf of my dad - your mom's."

Hadley frowned as she tried to work that out. "Gran's?"

"There's no way to say this that isn't ugly. Mitchell Stackhouse was our grandfather in every way but genetically."

"Gran... Gran had an affair?"

"Yes. With a half-fairy named Fintan Brigant."

"Are you shitting me?"

"No."

"You're telling me that my grandfather was actually a fairy."

"Half-fairy."

"A half-fairy. So I'm a what, a..." I watched as she tried to do the math in her head.

"An eight, technically. But for all intents and purposes, you're a human," I assured her quickly. "And Jason's a human. And my dad and your mom."

"And you're not."

"I _am_ but..."

"But you're _not_." I almost winced. She sounded accusing.

"I guess not entirely, no," I said softly.

"Is that why you can read people's minds?"

"Sort of." That was complicated and off topic. "We can talk more about this later. What you need to know right now is that our grandfather's father, Niall, is hopefully on his way here right now, and when he arrives, he will..." I wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. Ignore you? Deal with what's left of the body?

"He will help," I settled on, hoping it was true.

She sat thoughtful for a moment and I stayed out, giving her that privacy.

"Does Jason know about all this?"

"No. And it would be better if he didn't," I said honestly.

"And if I hadn't seen...that...would you have ever told me?"

"Probably not."

"Don't you think I had the right to know?"

"It's not really my place to decide that," I said gently. "This thing, with Gran, it's not something she's proud of. Granddaddy couldn't give her babies and she wanted them so much, but there's a lot of regret. Please Hadley, don't bring it up with her. It's so hard."

"Right," she said, and I could hear her frustration. I could only hope that after she'd had more time to digest, she'd understand. "So this guy who is coming here, he's my great grandfather?"

"Only technically."

"What does that mean?"

"It means don't expect him to have a handful of penny candies and John Deere cap. He's not a human and doesn't act like one, nor any great grandfather I've ever met. They're not like Weres. Most of them don't live in this world. Fintan hid our family from him, but he's known about us all along. He's never...he's not...he's..." I floundered.

"He's here," she said flatly, focusing on a point over my shoulder just as the knock came on the wooden porch door. I swung my head around to see not Niall, but his son, Dillon, standing there.

Though he is technically my, _our_, great uncle, Dillon has always held himself aloof on the few occasions I've met him. He doesn't object to humans, not like some fairies do. Niall once explained to me that we are just not to his taste. When he told me this, he said it in the same way someone else might say, "He does not care for lima beans." It was a preference. That illustrated quite a lot; not just about fairies, but about supes in general.

I greeted Niall's son with a courteous nod and beckoned for Hadley to follow us outside.

The Prince of the Sky Fae stood over the corpse which was just beginning to flake away in minuscule specks of shimmering gold and silver. This was actual _fairy dust _and that term suddenly seemed a deal less whimsical and romantic. I'd known what to expect, but it was the first time I had actually seen the process. It was slow, prolonged. I watched for a moment as I came to stand beside Niall until he looked up. A troubled expression was painted on his perfect face. I found it deeply unnerving. His eyes flickered over Hadley for a moment and then landed on me.

"This was Wallace," Niall observed. "What has happened here?"

He held his grave expression as I explained. I did my best to cover everything from seeing him on Christmas Eve, to the fire yesterday and Gran's heart attack, to him showing up at the hospital, to him trying to kill Hadley today.

Niall addressed his questions to me and I did my best to answer, even when Hadley would have been better. I could feel her emotions as we talked; confusion, frustration, fear, awe, and the longer the conversation went on, anger.

"I am pleased that you killed him before he could kill you," Niall finally said.

"He was an enemy?" I asked.

Dillon treated me to a sardonic look and I quickly clarified, "Was he known to be your enemy, great grandfather?"

"He was one of my people, but clearly he was not loyal to me. I am saddened to learn of his betrayal. I do wonder how he found you."

Niall did manage to sound tired, which I suppose was close enough to sad.

"What do you mean, 'how did he find us?' He just walked into our Gran's church!" It was the first time Hadley had done more than murmur her assent and the look Niall gave her was unnecessarily cool, but at least he spoke to her directly when he answered.

"Yes, but how did he find the church? Your family remains shrouded from my kind. These protections have been in place since your birth. Since the births of your mother and your uncle."

"Pretty clear these protections have failed," Hadley replied hotly and immediately I said her name in a warning tone.

"Watch yourself," I muttered darkly.

"I guess I'll have to, won't I? Since whatever protection I've had _since birth_ isn't doing a lick of good, huh?"

Frowning, Niall gestured to his son then, and Dillon approached Hadley cautiously. She was clearly upset, and that was perfectly understandable. When he moved to put his arms around her she jerked away at first but quickly allowed herself to be embraced. I heard him murmuring softly and unintelligibly to her and very gradually her tension waned. Fairies all have different magics, different talents. I'd never had occasion to see Dillon in action before, but I was fairly certain I was seeing it now. He didn't strike me as a hugger in the normal course of events, and neither did he bear much of the demeanor of someone whose embrace would be comforting. Some people just give off that vibe, like Gran. Dillon didn't, but Hadley sure calmed down quick.

"She knows who I am," Niall said. It was not exactly accusatory, so I tried not to sound defensive when I answered.

"I gave her the briefest explanation after I called. She recognized this Wallace for a fairy. She watched me _kill_ him."

"Perhaps it would be better if she did not remember any of this."

"No. He was thinking of three, the three of us. Jason too. She needs to know to be wary. She isn't wrong. She does need to watch her own back until all of this is sorted out."

"But the culprit is dead," he said, surprised.

I frowned at him.

"You said yourself you do not know how he found us. We don't know who started the fire here yesterday. We don't know who's been out lurking in the woods here. It could have been him, or it could have been someone helping him, or it could have been someone else. Don't leave her unaware. She is staying with Jason. She can look out for him too. If afterwards..." I trailed off.

I did think it was important that Hadley keep her memories of what she'd seen and heard today so that she would stay on her guard. Hadley might have been selfish and she might have been petulant, and a whole spate of bad qualities that our family had been working so hard to ignore in the last week, but she was also a survivor. She'd lived a hard life while she was gone from us, one that many people don't get out of. She'd had a hard childhood too, yet here she stood.

"Her not knowing what's going on right now puts all of us in greater danger," I stressed to Niall.

"You are injured," he observed, glancing at my hand. I suppose the subject change was to be taken for acquiescence?

"Yes," I agreed. "I'll heal."

"I am proud of you," Niall said then, as he placed a hand on either of my shoulders. "He was young, but not weak. You thought quickly and you saved your cousin too. You are very clever, and the strength of my blood flows in you."

This praise was clearly intended to gratify me, but it certainly didn't. I bit down on my lip as I nodded up at him, acknowledging the words if nothing else.

"Thank you," I told him.

By then, the corpse of the fairy had all but disappeared and after leaning to kiss my forehead and then releasing me, it seemed that Niall was ready to go. Dillon was still using his soothing magics on Hadley, but at his father's infinitesimal gesture he gradually withdrew. She hugged herself more tightly as she felt the loss of his influence.

"You will hear from me again when we have an answer for this treachery. In the meantime, you will contact me if you see any other fairies."

Niall spoke to the air in general, which I suppose was the closest he'd return to addressing Hadley again. I nodded and said goodbye, inclining my head to Dillon once again, and then watched from Hadley's side as the two fairies walked to the edge of the woods and disappeared.

"Do you want to come inside?" I asked Hadley.

"Just take me to Jason's okay? I have his key."

"You're sure? We could-"

"I can't be around you right now, Sookie," she cut in. "It's just too much, okay?"

"Okay." I nodded. I dashed to the house to lock it up and when I returned, Hadley was already sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

I'd have to come back after I dropped her off. It looked a bit like someone had dumped a big bag of glitter on the driveway. Any visitors in the next hour would just have to assume we'd had an arts and crafts catastrophe.

Hadley remained subdued as we drove to Jason's, and while I wished I could talk to her, I knew she wasn't up for chatting. I did have to warn her again about staying quiet in general though, which I did just as we pulled into the driveway of the home that belonged to my parents while they were alive.

"Yeah. I get it. Big secret."

"The biggest," I said honestly. "Had, even Jason. You can't say anything."

"I get it," she said again, before getting out of the car. She asked if she'd see me tomorrow and I nodded as she slammed the car door. I watched as she let herself in to the house and shut the door behind her, then turned back for Gran's.

Randall Shurtliff finally called as I drove, apologizing for not being able to stop by today and promising he'd be over first thing in the morning. It was definitely for the best that he hadn't made it. I was anxious for the whole fifteen minutes I ran the hose over the gravel, trying to disseminate the fairy remains. Fairies don't have burial customs. The body is merely a vessel for the soul and the soul moves on. They don't call it heaven; they call it the Summerlands. I figure it can't be too far off, though.

I forced myself to wind up the garden hose again before I left. Had it been my own house, I might have just left it out overnight. I also found my murder weapon and packed it into the car. It wasn't that I wanted to keep it, but I didn't want to leave it. It felt really wrong to leave something like that just lying in Gran's yard.

I phoned Eric on my way home. There was no avoiding it.

"My lover, what a pleasant surprise." He answered just after the first ring with a smooth, sexy voice.

"Yeah," I said wearily. "I'm sorry to bother you Eric, and I'm not calling as your lover tonight. There is a problem you should probably be aware of."

"Tell me."

I breathed a sigh. "My cousin was attacked by someone in my great grandfather's retinue today," I said guardedly. Cellphones.

"Does she live?" Clearly he understood the gravity of the situation.

"Yes. Partly thanks to you, I think. I am still quicker than I ought to be."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," I said, crooking the phone against my shoulder and trying in vain to rub some of the tension out of my neck. "It would be helpful if we could chat about that, and some other things from yesterday. Likely things you'd have an interest in even beyond me."

"Where are you now?"

"Driving home. I'll be fine there."

"I have a meeting," he said, sounding almost surprised.

"Ah," I said. "I'd say it can wait, but it probably shouldn't."

"I'll send you Pam."

"Great."

"Are you well?" Nice of him to ask.

"Not especially, no. Please let Pam know I'll be home in another half hour then?"

"Yes. And I will see you later," he assured me.

"Thanks, see you then. Bye."

I hung up.

I'm aware that I didn't exactly address him like an inviting bedmate, but that's not what this was about, and besides, I was tired. That ham sandwich also seemed like a long time ago.

I had leftover Christmas dinner heating in the microwave when Eric's child arrived at my door. Tonight she was wearing a long full skirt, a snug black bodice, and a high Victorian lace collar. Her hair was pulled back and she wore a peacock feather fascinator. It was still very much a costume, and certainly on the goth side of the scale, but her ensemble was actually quite pretty. It was certainly classier than her usual pleather and vinyl.

"Dressing your age I see," I grinned at her, gesturing to my own neckline to indicate her collar.

"The _latex_ was giving me a rash." She said latex the way my brother might say _pig shit_.

"Can that really happen?" I asked, distracted with genuine curiosity.

"No," she said. "May I come in? I understand something _important_ is going on."

I beckoned her inside and popped a bottle of blood in to heat for her while I served my food.

"You're not going to faint again, are you?"

"Nope."

I gave her bottle a gentle shake and opened it for her, placing it, and the cap, down on the table in front of her before taking my own seat. I took one bite of the mashed potatoes and instantly felt a few degrees better. I started to talk as I filled my belly with the remnants of Christmas dinner, telling her about the fire and what I heard in the woods. I had to jump back to Christmas Eve.

"So this fairy was trying to lead her off that night?" Pam interjected.

"I guess he was, but then my brother stepped in. He thought she was going off to canoodle or something."

"Canoodle?"

"Uh. Fool around. Make whoopee. Get, er, intimate with."

"Oh, she was going to have sex with him," Pam said, stripping away the euphemisms without an ounce of embarrassment. "Well that's understandable. So then this same fairy showed up with Hadley again today and attacked her in front of you?"

"Right. He meant to attack both of us."

"And then your great grandfather came?"

"He came later. And he said this Wallace guy is one of his people."

"So how did you escape?"

"Um. I stuck him with a piece of steel. He died."

"You killed a _fairy_?"

"I had to."

She eyed me for a long moment and I began to feel uncomfortable. Apart from the initial few minutes of shock, I hadn't let myself dwell on what I'd done, and as she continued to stare, I started to spiral. I'd taken a life. I had no choice. I was a murderer. It was a fluke that I'd even been able to do it. Fairies are strong. He could have done it quickly. He could have literally ripped our heads off. He'd apologized to Hadley. I heard the clatter of my fork on my plate as I let it fall from my hand.

"Sookie! Snap out of it." Pam.

I blinked. "I've never killed somebody before," I said quietly.

"And a fairy. What a waste," she said wistfully.

"That's not even a little funny, Pam."

"No, wasting good blood is no joking matter," she deadpanned.

I breathed out my exasperation. "You never feel uneasy about killing?" I asked and then answered my own question. "No, of course you don't, you're a vampire, you're a murderer by nature."

"I have never felt guilty about defending my life from someone who meant to take it," Pam said. "And you shouldn't either. As for the other, certainly I have felt uneasy. You are aware we do not have to kill to feed. That loss of control, when it happens, is certainly troubling."

"That's not what I mean. That's troubling to you because of your failing, not because of the loss of life."

"He threw his life away, why do you mourn that?"

"It's not quite mourning. I just hate that it had to be done. I hate that I had to do it."

"If by some chance you had managed to capture or incapacitate him, his fate would have been worse. At least you gave him a quick death." She pondered me for a moment before seeming to reach a conclusion. "Times have changed, Sookie. There was a time when a woman would be expected to grieve a death indefinitely. Nowadays, you are permitted to get on with your life. I suggest that you do so."

"What?"

"I'm giving you sound advice."

"...About what?"

"About coping with death and loss. Dear Abby says that it's acceptable in our modern era to move on. Dwelling on such things will only keep you down," she scolded.

I stared at her like the crazy person she was.

"You're quoting Dear Abby to help me cope with being a murderer."

She gave me a look that clearly said, 'Yes, so?'

"That's wildly inappropriate."

"Suit yourself. I'll warn you though, no one likes a Negative-Nancy."

"I'll just cross that bridge when I come to it." I realized that, if nothing else, she had thoroughly distracted me from my gloom for the moment. "So now Niall is trying to determine what the goal of this Wallace was, and if he was working alone, and how he found us in the first place."

"There will be fairies in the area?" She perked right up.

"I guess it's possible. It'll be hard to say if they are good or bad, though."

"I'm sure there will be interesting times. If you're intact, I suppose I should get going."

"I suppose you're needed at Fangtasia with Eric at his meeting."

"Yes, I should. Long Shadow is running the place right now."

"Is that a good thing?"

"The incident with Clancy seems to have bolstered loyalty across the board."

"I suppose that is good then."

"Yes."

Pam left then, and with nothing else to do I cleaned up the kitchen then got ready for bed. I took the time to more properly clean the wound on my hand and applied fresh gauze and tape. I let myself fall asleep for a few hours on the couch but twice I awoke with a jolt of panic. Each time I stretched out my mind and found nothing, checked my phone and found nothing. Considering the last couple of days, weeks even, it probably wasn't unusual that I'd been sleeping badly, but it didn't exactly feel like nightmares. When it happened again just after four o'clock I groaned and concluded that Eric probably wasn't going to show after all. Just as I started to trudge down the hall towards my bedroom I felt the void of his brain on the front porch.

I paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would knock, and he, most likely knowing or feeling me awake, seemed to be waiting to see if I would open the door. I gave in and let him inside.

He closed the door behind him and crossed to me. It wasn't sexy. It was a perfunctory looking me over. He took up my bandaged hand to examine it, bending my fingers as he searched my face for signs of pain. When he pressed my palm flat I winced and was almost certain the gash had reopened. When his nostrils flared a moment later that confirmed it.

I tried to pull back because it actually was quite uncomfortable. "It's fine."

He flicked his eyes up in response and held my wrist firmly as he unwrapped the gauze and began to nurse the wound with his tongue. I watched for a moment until his eyes turned to mine and I felt an inexplicable shot of lust sweep through me. It just wasn't the time, so I found a nice place on the floor. It was probably equal parts caring and late night snack, for him, but it did feel soothing. I let him lap at my hand until he was satisfied that I wasn't bleeding anymore and let it drop. I looked at it, acknowledging that he'd probably taken a day or two off the healing process.

"Thank you. I thought you were held up, I was just going to bed."

"I was held up, yes."

"Everything alright?"

"It will be tomorrow night."

"Going to share?"

"Pam tells me that you are full of uneasy feelings about what happened to you today."

"Are you going to tell me that I shouldn't? Because she has already done a thorough job of that."

"No. I understand that you are uncomfortable with having to kill. I will say that I am glad you did though. If it was you or him, I am glad that you chose you."

"I didn't have time to think."

"Then I am glad your instincts for self-preservation are good."

I remembered something from earlier in the day, or from yesterday, at this point. In an effort to get off the subject I decided to ask him.

"Eric? Besides Jack Mason, do you know of any local witches?"

He stepped away from me in an instant, literally holding me at arm's length.

"Why are you asking me about witches?" He looked angry. I was too exhausted to be frightened by that. I was just confused. I pushed ineffectually at his hand where it gripped my shoulder. He was squeezing.

"I just thought you might know. I want to have wards put in place at my Gran's house, and maybe my brother's too. Do you have them at your house, or Fangtasia?"

"I would not let any witches near my home. I have grown exceedingly tired of _fucking_ _witches._" He said it with such venom in his voice. He was seething, but thankfully not at me.

"So that's a no, then?"

"That's a no."

"Something you want to talk about there, buddy?"

"There is another coven. They are not from here, but they are here now. I don't know them. I don't know why they chose to come here. They say they want to take half of my business, or else they will work their magic against us."

"That's strange. So they are threatening you?"

"Yes."

"Was that your meeting? With them?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?"

He looked at me scathingly.

"After what happened with Pam, you will understand that we are not inclined to negotiate with witches."

"Ah. Okay," I said. "I get it."

"As I said, after tomorrow, it will not be a problem."

"That's enough now, you were good with the subject changing earlier."

"I will arrange to have Tray Dawson outside your home in the daytime."

"That's unnecessary; besides, I am running back and forth to Bon Temps all week."

He clutched my wrist again firmly and held my injured hand up between us.

"It_ is _necessary. For now."

"Fine," I sighed, too tired to argue.

"Good. Now, I am afraid that it is nearer to dawn than I would prefer to join you in your bed, so I will say good night."

I rolled my eyes at that. At least he was definitely interested in having more of that wonderful sex with me at some point. Romance on top of that would just be too much to hope for.

"Good night then, Eric. Have a nice day rest. Good luck dealing with the evil witches tomorrow night."

"Thank you. I will see you soon."

He moved in to kiss me then and I let him, resting more of my weight in his arms than I probably meant to. He didn't seem to mind, holding me tightly. Before I even realized what was happening, the arm he'd drawn around my waist lifted me up so that our heights nearly matched and I felt my toes pointing downward into thin air, not even brushing the ground. There is definitely something to be said for vampire strength. He brushed his fingers through my hair with his free hand, and when he finally broke the kiss he inhaled deeply against my neck.

I breathed out, trying to pull my head out of the clouds so I could focus long enough on seeing him out.

"Would you let me know how it goes at least? Just that you and Pam and your people are all safe?"

"Yes, I'll do that."

"Alright. Well. Bye," I said, stepping away after he lowered me back to the ground. I patted his chest twice in a gesture of sending him on his way.

After watching Eric walk out and take off into the sky I shot the deadbolt and stumbled back to my room. I fell asleep thinking of Eric, and I was grateful for that. It was a lot better than thinking of anything else.

I woke up around ten to my phone ringing. It was the contractor asking if I could meet him at the house by noon. I told him that would work well enough for me and pulled myself up and out to put the coffee on. Through the window I saw Tray sitting out in his car parked right in front of my house. I pulled on a heavy sweatshirt and went right out to the road in my slippers and pajama pants. He had the window rolled down before I was halfway down the front path. Definitely an attentive guard.

"Morning Tray," I greeted.

"Morning Miss Stackhouse."

"Uh huh. Your boss is dead for the day so it's Sookie and come in out of the cold for a coffee would you? I've got to be in Bon Temps in two hours. I guess you're coming with me."

Tray folded up his newspaper and got out of his car to follow me back inside. I pulled the rest of the sweet potato pie out of the fridge along with some whipped cream and milk. I got him down a plate and a mug and a spoon and told him to have at it while I showered and dressed. I didn't take very long and I sat back in the bedroom to call Gran. Hadley was with her, but she wasn't interested in talking to me. I let Gran know I'd bring my cousin up a lunch. I meant to stop by and find out all she knew of Wallace anyway.

Tray rode with me in my car, and even with the stop for gas we made it to Gran's house by quarter to twelve. Tray took a big whiff when we arrived, and I imagined that he was smelling the stink of the fire. Dennis Pettibone was already in attendance out back, collecting some samples to try to determine the actual cause of the fire.

"Woo, that's potent."

"Yeah, propane tank exploded."

"I can see that," he chuckled, gesturing to the scorch marks that dotted the long and the random debris. "But I meant the smell of fairies," he said, lowering his voice.

"You can smell fairies here?"

"I'd need to shift to tell you how many, but yeah, it's heavy in the air."

"I didn't know Weres could smell fairies."

"Same as the vamps. It's there. It's just a matter of recognizing it."

"Tray, did Eric tell you why you're here with me?"

"Said in the past two days there've been two attempts to harm you. I take it that's the cause of the smell?"

I nodded slowly.

"Any idea why they want you?"

"I've got ideas," I said uncomfortably. "We don't know for sure yet."

"Helps to know what I need to look out for."

"Fairies. Maybe a female Were."

"A Were?"

"My cousin cheated on her girlfriend back in Houston. She was in the pack there. We aren't sure how big her vendetta is."

"Maybe when this guy clears out," he said, lifting his chin towards the back of the house, "I'll shift and have a good look around."

"Sounds like a very good plan," I agreed.


	21. Vampire Merchant

A/N: The SVM universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy. Big thank-you's to both!

Voting for the I Write The Songs contest ends tomorrow. There are many good stories in that collection, please have a look!

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Chapter 21 - Vampire Merchant

Randall Shurtliff and his wife came and went leaving me with the mixed news that while the house could be fully restored, it wouldn't be for about six weeks. They simply didn't have the time to get it done before then. I thought that was odd considering the time of year, but I could see in both of their minds that it had been a busy season. I guess there were a lot of home repair projects that people needed doing before winter really settled in during January and February. I had to grudgingly admit that this was one good thing about having telepathy; I could tell that the Shurtliffs were being honest with me. Randall did what he could today, which amounted to fixing some insulation and plastic sheeting over the broken glass. It wasn't pretty, but at least it would keep out the weather.

While Randall worked on the windows I talked money with Delia, his wife and business partner. She knew the bulk of their payment would be coming from what Gran got through the fire and home insurance. I warned her that I didn't want them skimping on materials to try to come in at the right cost. I wanted the job done right, and we would also want new windows throughout in addition to the repairs. If Jason wanted to chip in, he could, but I was prepared to use some of my savings to foot the bill. When Gran was finally able to return to her home, she'd find it in better condition than she left it. No more drafty single-panes for Adele Stackhouse.

Delia was pleasant to talk to. She appreciated that I could ask for what I wanted, and was happy to give me plain answers. I wasn't sure if there was some kinship between us, as two professional women, but I knew I liked her. She had an open and no-nonsense way about her, and it was very clear that her relationship with Randall was an equal partnership in every sense. I felt very positive about having them do the work.

I was grateful to be in a position where I could afford to have a little extra done to Gran's house. Even without the Herbahz sale to boost our sales figures, the end of year bonuses at work had been generous. I'm sure it had to do with all the upset the last few weeks. Mintah had lived among humans long enough to know that a little extra money in someone's hands forgives a lot of inconvenience. Though I'd already received my more personal token of thanks from him, it was nice to be included with everyone else when Brenda had brought out the narrow envelopes towards the end of our Christmas lunch.

Having been raised with very little, once I started working at Splendide, I found I had more money than I knew what to do with. I squirreled everything I could away and allowed myself the comfort of knowing that if things ever got really dire, for any reason, I could take care of myself.

Tray took it upon himself to walk around the perimeter of the property. I stood outside in the cold, unsure of what to do with myself while Dennis Pettibone did whatever he was doing for his arson investigation. I'd filled Tray in on the way over as much as I could about what I knew and what I suspected. He was tactful enough not to ask questions about the finer points; like how I knew there had been someone lurking in the woods for a couple of days, and how I'd managed to attract the negative attention of fairies. He knew what kind of work we did at Splendide, and knew I had some association with the vampire Sheriff of the area. He knew I knew about the supes, quite a lot about them, but he didn't know why.

After making his first circuit, Tray caught my eye and gestured into the trees, and I knew he meant to shift and have a look around. In response, I pointed to the general area where I had felt the encroaching mind. After he'd disappeared I went inside. Mr. Pettibone wasn't exactly comfortable being the center of my undivided attention, much as he was trying to ignore my presence to do his work.

Gran and Hadley had spent the days leading up to Christmas scouring the house from top to bottom so there wasn't really anything that needed doing. I packed the leftovers for lunch and set them aside. It didn't feel right just unceremoniously packing up all the holiday decorations either, even though Gran wouldn't be staying here to enjoy them for a few more days after she left the hospital. I could always come over and do that next weekend. Though we'd give her the choice of course, I was fairly confident that she would stay with Jason. I built a fire to try to warm the chilly front room and then called my brother at work to let him know what the contractor had said. After I'd done so he asked me what I'd done to Hadley.

"What do you mean 'What'd I do to Hadley'? I didn't do a thing to her."

"Then why's she so pissed with you? I mentioned to her last night about going over to stay with you a night or two and she acted like you were her worst enemy."

"I guess it got a little tense here yesterday. I'm sure she'll get over it." I could only hope that was true. I supposed I had become the focus of all her angst about yesterday, once she'd come out of her own shock a little. Maybe it was just what she was telling Jason, or maybe it was true. Either way, I had to be grateful that she'd not blabbed.

"Uh-huh."

"So Jason, you're prepared to have Gran and Hadley stay with you while she's recovering and her house is being worked on, right?"

"Can't she stay with you?"

"She certainly _can_, but I'm assuming you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep your only Grandmother comfortable in her convalescence, which is likely to include staying in her own town, closer to her own doctors."

"How long'd he say it's gonna be before she can move back in?"

"Six weeks."

I heard Jason's lungs deflate in acceptance and nodded to myself. It's not that he's unwilling to do the right thing, but sometimes you have to lead him to it.

"I'll get Hadley to help me get ready for her tonight then."

"Thanks Jason."

I dug out Gran's old suitcases so they'd be out when she was ready to pack after coming home from the hospital, and took the time to pack her up a bag full of her toiletries and a couple of nightgowns in case she was getting tired of the hospital ones, and some clean clothes for her to wear on her way home, which would hopefully only be in another day or two. I found a couple of novels by her bedside table and tucked them in too, chiding myself for not taking care of this yesterday. I only hoped that she'd spent her time resting as much as possible in between all the fussing from the doctors and nurses, and then I remembered that she'd had Hadley there to keep her company, as she did today.

It was probably going to be a while before I really got used to the idea of Hadley being around again.

Dennis Pettibone knocked on the door to let me know that he was leaving the property to go and meet some of the local police officers for lunch at the nearby bar. Bon Temps doesn't offer much variety as far as places that serve food go. Jason eats at Merlotte's regularly too, I knew. Maybe he'd be there today as well. Though I would have sensed the investigator's departure regardless, I appreciated the consideration he showed in keeping me informed about his coming and going from the house. He'd return later in the afternoon to finish up his work. He was eager to get over to the bar and hoped he'd be waited on by the same pretty redhead who had served him last night, so I didn't bother holding him up with questions. I let him know that I'd probably be gone to the hospital by the time he returned, and would speak to him soon.

It was a while before Tray turned up again, and I was chomping at the bit to get over to see Gran. When I saw him come striding out of the woods, he looked a little tired, though no more disheveled than if he really had been out there for a simple stroll. I carried the things I would be taking to Gran out to the car, meeting Tray in the driveway.

"If you don't need anything from inside, I'd like to get over to the hospital. I've packed you up a couple of sandwiches and a coke for lunch."

"I'm fine, thanks."

I nodded at that, and he came around to the passenger side and got in. As we drove toward Granger, Tray told me that he hadn't found any trace of Weres in the woods. He had discerned evidence of a couple of different shifters, though not particularly near the house, and nothing in the yard.

"I can't rule out that the fire didn't do some to obscure the smell, but I don't think anyone's been close. I got fairies, the same ones as in your driveway, and human all around. It's a bit faint. You, I think. You go out there much?"

"Sometimes, when I'm over here on the weekends," I said. "It's been a couple of weeks."

He nodded. Evidently this agreed with whatever he'd picked up. "Closer to the house there's too many. More than a dozen different humans. Between so many different tracks and the fire smell, it's too hard to tell specifics close up."

"The fairies are the main concern," I said firmly.

We rode in silence as he debated several possibilities as to why that might be, and I pretended with great determination that I had no idea what he was thinking. I didn't struggle to block him out then, I waited until I parked the car in the big hospital lot and the anguish of the woman three cars over hit me before I focused every bit of energy I didn't need to walk and talk on keeping her mental voice, and the many others that would be waiting inside, out.

"Give me a moment," Tray Dawson said, as we entered. I watched confusedly as he paced forward to the main desk. The woman sitting there peered up at him with a nervous expression, but then seemed to relax, nodding and smiling agreeably as he did the same. He rejoined me and we walked to the elevators.

"What was that about?" I asked, as we waited for the car to arrive and the doors to open.

"I'm carrying my service weapon," he informed me. "I had to make sure that was allowed in your grandmother's ward, and it's a courtesy to inform the staff when you enter a public building," Tray continued matter-of-factly.

I nodded. I guess I'd quickly gotten used to Tray as a friendly face. Being informed that he had a concealed gun on his person reminded me like no amount of his general looming had done, that he was a guard - my guard. The idea that he was carrying didn't make me uncomfortable in itself. Gran always kept an old shotgun in the closet. Jason still had my dad's old gun, and newer ones of his own, used for hunting. The guards at Splendide all wore handguns on their hips, well, except the new vampires. It was just more than a little disconcerting to realize that I was walking around with my own armed guard. It seemed to fly in the face of staying inconspicuous.

He didn't necessarily look like my guard, but what else would he be? My boyfriend? He was a little old for me. _As opposed to the thousand year old vampire you are lusting after. _Eric was different regardless, since he didn't _look_ any older than me, but I figured it was like my brother said when he was watching sports: go big, or go home. If you're going to date an older man, date one so old he remembers the dark ages.

"I've never fired it outside of the shooting range, if that's your concern," Tray said. I mentally scolded myself for letting my face show my emotions again.

"No, it's not that," I assured him. It truly wasn't, but Tray was still bent on the assumption that I worried about the presence of his gun.

"I've done this sort of thing before a few times. Normally it's watching over some guy's girlfriend or wife when he thinks she might be stepping out on him, or she's spooked by something or another. Your vampire made it clear we're looking at a real threat here, and as we don't know exactly _what_ we're dealing with, I figured it best to play it safe."

He leaned up again as the elevators doors opened on to Gran's floor. Though we'd ridden alone, he had bent his head nearer to my ear and spoke of the _unknown threat_ in a hushed voice.

I smiled over at the nurses' station as we exited before turning back to Tray.

"Are you coming in?" I asked him.

"I'll just wait out here," he said, looking around. "Maybe take a walk around the floor."

We walked over to the small waiting area and I set the lunch bag down on one of the chairs and fished out Tray's sandwiches and drinks before going in to see Gran. She and Hadley were playing Gin Rummy and they finished the game as I set out our own lunch things. Gran's tray of hospital food was sitting there untouched. It was nice that they'd waited so we could all eat together. I let Gran know I'd brought her things along and placed her bag to the side and out of the way. There were more flowers and plants around, sent by her well-wishers. We would have quite a lot to carry out of here when Gran was ready to leave.

Hadley took a little while to ease into conversation with me, but by the end of our meal the three of us were chatting amiably. I filled them in on the goings on at the house, and I asked Gran whether she'd prefer to stay with me and Jason.

"I think Jason has more room for the two of us," Gran said diplomatically. "Not that I don't wish to stay with you, Sookie, but Jason's place is just closer to town, and having the two of them around will be good for me."

I nodded, and let her know that I'd be seeing about her car tomorrow. The house had taken priority. Though we hadn't exactly spoken about it, the three of us grandchildren had worked out a good arrangement. Hadley was on hand to tend to Gran's person, I would take care getting her home back in order, and Jason would provide her temporary abode and transportation in the meanwhile. I thought back to when Aunt Linda had been sick, and caring for her had been almost exclusively Gran's responsibility. I started to think I wasn't doing enough.

We hadn't arrived there naturally, so I finally had to jump in and ask about the sensitive subject of Wallace.

"Oh, that nice young man from the church? He said he'd visit again today. He was hoping to meet you, Sookie."

"He was?" I bet he would wish he hadn't met me now. "How long has he been coming to church?"

"You know, I don't think I'd ever seen him there before. But you know how it is these days," Gran said, letting umbrage color her tone. "Some people only remember to come to church on Easter and Christmas."

I nodded, but I couldn't help being frustrated with the apparent dead end. It really had been a perfectly convenient time to scout us unawares. There were enough familiar people that everyone felt safe, and just enough unfamiliar ones that no one particularly stood out as an outsider. I'd only noticed him at all because he was handsome.

Hadley may have warmed to me in Gran's presence, but wasn't interested in any one on one time. She announced that she'd be staying with Gran until Jason came by after work then going home with him before I could even ask if she wanted a ride anywhere. With that, I more or less assumed it was time for me to leave. I tried not to take it as a dismissal, but once again I must have let my face show what I was thinking. It really was difficult to focus on that in addition to the strong shields.

Gran reached over and gave my hand a little squeeze. "We know it's hard for you to visit in a place like this honey. I do appreciate your coming by."

Tray was standing sentry just outside the door of Gran's room as I left, and the sudden appearance of him actually startled me. He chuckled when I jumped.

"Most people see me a mile away," he grinned.

Most people rely on their eyes alone to know someone is there.

Having no more business in Bon Temps, we returned to Shreveport. He insisted on checking the yard before joining me inside. I already had my laptop open on the kitchen table when he walked in and folded his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"So your grandmother's house is where you kill the fairies, and your house is where you kill the demons. Where do you kill the vamps and the shifters, your brother's place?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your yard is foul with the smell of demon blood."

"That wasn't my doing," I said quickly.

"No, I don't reckon it would be, little thing like you."

I scowled. I wasn't a little thing except in comparison to a hulk like Tray, first of all. Secondly, I found myself indignant about the accusation that I _couldn't_ kill a demon while being simultaneously completely aware and fearful of the truth of that fact.

"Well I guess that's why you're here," I muttered.

"Sookie, I like to mind my own business as a general rule, but if I'm going to be watching out for you for a few days, I think I need to know a little bit more about you."

"The demons who attacked here did so because I saw one of them break into Splendide, and saw another one of them killing the guard who also saw them breaking in. I didn't kill them, Eric did, and he also killed their master, and they won't be back."

"And the fairy?"

"I killed the fairy." I saw his eyes widen. "Yes, little old me. Yes it was a fluke. I got lucky," I said, breathing out. "Really lucky. But he's dead, just the same."

"And why are they after you?"

"I honestly don't know."

"And you are...?" I knew what he was asking. So much for all my damned secrecy.

"My grandfather was a half-fairy. So me, my brother, my cousin, we're an eighth. They don't even know about that, or at least, my brother doesn't. My cousin didn't until yesterday."

"Ah," Tray said. "I suppose that explains the vamp's interest then."

He'd been wondering why Eric gave enough of a damn to stick a guard on me. I closed my eyes. That was insensitive, but not mean-spirited. He had not been trying to insult me, even though he had. He didn't even know about my other attributes. Maybe he was correct, at that.

"Yes," I answered dully. "I suppose it might."

I didn't want him to see how much his offhand comment had hurt me. I folded my computer and stood up with it tucked under my arm.

"Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'm just going to get some work done, excuse me," I said quickly, and then edged past him before practically fleeing down the hall to my bedroom.

I pressed the door closed behind me and then sat on my bed and went back to reviewing my emails. I found it difficult to concentrate on replies. I belong to a few professional mailing lists, so I always have queries and pictures of finds. It wasn't long before dark and I ended up spending most of the time reading articles about an ongoing dig in South America. A site they'd initially thought to be a small village was turning out to be much larger and the researchers there were finding more artifacts on a daily basis. Nothing was standout as particularly unique, yet, but the sheer volume had the entire team very excited. I found their research log on the Web and spent the rest of the afternoon reading through it, looking at photos of the things they'd found, snapshots of the dig team and the local area.

I envied them such an experience.

One of the posts showed an object they were trying to identify which looked an awful lot like a whistle that I'd once come across from roughly the same geographical region. I sent an email response describing the dimensions and characteristics of the piece I'd seen along with a few lines saying how much I'd enjoyed reading about their experiences on the dig, and wished them luck.

I'd just clicked send when I heard Tray's phone ringing somewhere in the front of the house and realized it had gone full dark. A couple of minutes later there was a knock on my door and my bodyguard stuck his head in to let me know that the vamps were up and he was leaving for the night. I followed him out front and he told me that he'd be back in the morning. I said goodnight to him and locked the door behind him.

I settled in to a quiet evening. Sick of leftovers, I cooked myself dinner and sat down to watch some television. I hadn't really expected Eric to call me after whatever he was doing with the witches. I expected another note to be hand-delivered by Bobby Burnham some time tomorrow with a brief, "We are well," inscribed. I was surprised, therefore, when my phone rang right before midnight, just as I was going to get ready for bed, and his name came up on the caller ID.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Sookie? This is Pam." Uh-oh.

"Hey Pam. Everything alright?"

"No it isn't. Is your guard still there?"

"Uh, no, he left after sundown. I thought he'd talked to Eric."

"Shit!"

"Pam what's going on?"

"I have a problem. We have a problem. We need your help. I need you to meet me."

"Excuse me? What happened to staying in my house unless accompanied by my guard?"

"I promise you if any fairies follow you I will eat them when you get here. I need your help. _Eric_ needs your help."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes. He will be, for now, he is damaged."

"What happened?"

"I will explain when you meet me. We have to move again. They are tracking me."

She asked me to meet her at a rest stop on the highway east of Shreveport, and hung up the phone. I stared at it for a few moments, wondering if I was about to make an incredibly stupid mistake. Then, I grabbed my keys and for good measure, my knife, and got in the car.

It took me almost forty minutes to reach the location Pam had specified. When I did, I spotted her and Eric standing in the far corner of the parking lot. There were a few brains around, all humans going about their normal business. A sleeping trucker, a couple trying to make their navigation device function, a mother changing a diaper in the back seat of her car. Why wouldn't she go inside the restroom? Surely there was a changing table in there? Apart from that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. I let the car roll close to Pam and Eric and Pam seemed to be guiding Eric forward. By the time I stopped, putting the car in park but leaving it to idle, she was opening my passenger door for him.

"Pam? What's going on?"

Eric was patting the seat as though trying to get its dimensions. His hand came in brief contact with the silver knife blade and he bucked upwards, banging his head against the roof of my car, shaking the entire thing. He grabbed at the knife again and threw it furiously behind him. I heard it clatter across the concrete.

"Eric, what the heck?" I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and getting out so I could collect my weapon. It was valuable, in addition to being useful. Also, I really liked it. He _knew_ that. He didn't say a word, just hurled himself into the car and slammed the door. He should be grateful the seat was already pushed so far back from Tray riding in it earlier. He was definitely in a temper.

"He is blind," Pam said. She'd come up behind me and clutched my arm once I stood up from retrieving the knife.

"What do you mean 'he is blind?'" I was certainly Miss Disbelieving lately.

"He cannot see. The witches used a spell. Gerald was affected too. He is finally dead, now."

She sounded almost blasé.

"Wasn't he your nestmate?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright?"

I'd meant about Gerald dying when I asked, but her concerns were obviously more focused on her immediate safety.

"They have my hair. One of them pulled out a portion of my scalp," she said. It was only then that I really took in her appearance. Her light tan pants had many smudges of dirt and the smeared splatter of blood. One of the back pockets had been ripped off. She had scrapes across her skin that were yet to heal, which meant they had to be quite bad. Her hair was pulled back with an elastic, but I thought I could make out a patch of pink; a divot where hair should have been. The wound was still raw. I didn't examine it any closer.

"They can use their magics to track me too easily. Eric in this state slows me down. We have to separate or we are both in peril."

"What do I do with him?"

"Take him to your house. It is warded against harm and they won't be able to find him anyway. He will be safe there."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to steal one of these cars and drive to Red Chute."

"Red Chute? That's where..."

"That's where I was held when I was taken. Eric could not detect me in that place. It is the best hope I have to rest for the day without being found."

I looked at her in alarm. A shed in the backyard of her enemy? A shed where she was held captive for days was her _best_ hope?

"Come with us," I told her. "We can fight them."

"We _can't_," she paused, considering. "At least not like this. I've told the others to scatter. Tomorrow night we will...regroup."

I didn't understand what she was saying. I know witches can be powerful in numbers, but surely they are no match for vampires determined to take them out? Vampires, with their strength and great speed, can easily overpower any human.

"Pam, how did this happen?"

She let out an irritated sigh which I ignored. I think I was owed an explanation, even an abbreviated one. I'd practically got out of bed for this.

"We discovered the building where the witches were holed up after our meeting yesterday. Tonight, we closed Fangtasia and Eric summoned several of those loyal to him to assist in the attack. When we entered, they were ready for us. They silenced Eric with magic so he could not give commands and then cast a spell that made everyone sick. Some of our party were distracted by that. Then, some of the witches began to shift."

"Shift?"

"They are Weres. Some of them, anyway."

"You didn't know that before?"

"The stink of magic about them obscured everything else. Even Eric could not detect it," Pam said defensively.

I put my hand to my head as if I could somehow will away what she was telling me.

"Eric killed their leader, a woman named Hallow," Pam told me. "But rather than send them into a panic, it only seemed to condense their group. We killed some, but the fight was not going in our favor. I called the retreat, and fled with Eric. We realized very quickly they could follow us. I've talked to the others. They are safe."

"Jesus, Pam."

"You must take Eric now and go, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Thank you. We will speak soon."

She finally released my arm and I rubbed at it. I turned back towards my car and realized there were three people approaching our vacant portion of the parking lot. I didn't hesitate in reaching out for their minds.

"Shit." I heard Pam say. She'd seen them too.

"Two human, the one on the left is a Were. Trying their blinding again."

"Sookie, leave. Take him and go! Now!"

Pam crouched, obviously ready to fight. I ran for it.

Eric was getting out of the car, having heard something or maybe felt my panic and Pam's determination. Even without his sight he had to know there was something. I pushed back against the door he was trying to open as I ran past.

"No, no, no!" I said. I didn't want to shout, and call any more attention to myself. The witches and the Were were still focused on Pam.

I threw myself into the car and shifted into drive, pressing down on the gas before I even heard his door close again.

In my rearview mirror I saw Pam bolt forward and seize one of the witches, continuing to run with him, separating him from the others. I had to swerve suddenly to avoid hitting the curb and when I glanced back again I couldn't see Pam or anyone else. I floored it.

I didn't even know what to say to the huge vampire sitting next to me.

"Are you alright?" I asked. He didn't answer.

Of course he didn't answer, the witches had silenced him.

"Shoot, sorry," I muttered. "Pam will be okay, won't she?" I risked a glance over at him. He was staring sightlessly forward, a scowl on his face.

"I guess you're concentrating on your bond with her?"

Nothing.

"Nod for yes and shake for no, Eric," I told him, not bothering to hide my frustration.

He nodded.

"Is she fighting?"

A nod.

"Is she winning?"

He hesitated, and then, a slower nod.

"Good," I breathed. I drove for a little while and took the next exit to turn around on the highway. I told him what I was doing so he wouldn't wonder why we were heading back in the direction of Pam.

"I'll get you some paper and a pen when we get home."

It was nearly two by the time we got back to my house. I pulled up the driveway as close as I could get and cast out with my mind making certain we were alone. He opened the door, stepped out with one foot, and was leaning his body outward with his head cocked, clearly listening to make sure of that fact for himself.

"Come on," I told him, leading him by the hand. "It's safe."

He was full of tension as he shuffled along behind me while I led us up to the house. It was only when we were inside that he seemed to relax. He leaned back against the wall and let his hands fall to his sides. Now in the light, unbent, I could see that Eric showed some wear and tear from his battle this evening too.

"Let's get you some blood, and something to write on," I told him.

I took his hand again but he pulled away from me and gestured me to walk ahead. I figured this was something like male pride, so I went in the kitchen and put a bottle of blood in the microwave for him, then put my phone pad and a pen down for him to write with.

He moved along the wall and into the kitchen. He had his hands at his sides but his fingers spread slightly in front of him, and he walked slowly. He'd been here enough times now to be familiar with how things were situated in my house, but I guess not enough that like me, he could walk from one end to the other in the pitch black and pour himself a glass of water. If he drank water.

He probably must. I mean, blood is what, 80% water? Maybe not for preference, but he must be able to.

"Can you drink water?" I asked him.

He turned to face me as I spoke, and raised his eyebrows. Even with unfocused eyes, his expression was practically the same. It made me smile.

The timer beeped for his blood and I took it out, recapped it, and gave the bottle a little shake, setting it down for him. He was taking his time surreptitiously locating the nearest chair, but it was clear he didn't want my help, so I let him be. I made myself a cup of hot chocolate and by the time it was ready, he was finally sitting down. I shifted his blood closer to him, and moved his hand over to the pen and pad, giving it a little squeeze. I wasn't babying him. I wanted some darned answers.

He drank the blood down quickly and then nudged the bottle away from him with his fingertips. I got up to heat him another and he took up the pen.

_Yes. We can drink water in small amounts. This has sometimes been necessary to affect the appearance of being human._

_Pam is well. I feel that she is well. Pleased with herself. Hopefully she will call soon._

_I will need somewhere light-tight to spend the day. A closet will do if you can seal over the cracks around the door and beneath the floor. You will need to check it for light._

I read the pad as he took his second bottle of blood, sipping it more slowly.

"I guess we can put you in the closet in the front bedroom. I'll draw the curtains and the blinds, and you can lock the door from the inside. We can put a blanket over the closet door so it keeps light out of the cracks, and I guess I can give you some tape, to tape up around the frame from the inside too. It won't be comfortable, but it should keep you safe."

_Thank you._

"You probably want to clean up, too. I don't have anything for you to wear, but I'm sure we can wrap you in a towel or a blanket or something while your clothes are in the laundry. You came out better than Pam did."

_Pam can see and speak_

He slammed the pen down to punctuate the written sentence.

"Sorry," I said, as soon as I had read it. "I only meant clothes-wise. She's all ripped and stained. Your things look like they'd wash up fine."

After we finished our respective drinks, I brooked no argument and helped Eric to the shower. He stripped in front of me, and I tried not to be embarrassed about that. I'd seen him naked before, and he obviously wasn't ashamed of his body, with good reason. I couldn't help it when I went pink though; a combination of my own bashfulness, and if I'm being honest, my own lust at the sight of him.

"I think I'm glad you can't see me right now," I grinned, knowing he'd be aware of how I was feeling. He could probably feel the heat coming off my cheeks. "I'm redder than a tomato."

He paused stepping in to the shower, one hand steady on the opposite wall, and ran his other hand across and _down_ his own chest and torso. I let him go for a while. Though he couldn't see me doing it, I could just tell he was enjoying being admired. He had clearly had a lousy evening and it was no skin off my nose if he had a moment or two of good feeling. Before he could get too far down the trail of coarse blonde hair, I snatched up his jeans, shirt, and briefs, and scurried out of the room. I'd already put a towel out for him.

After getting the wash started I found the thickest and heaviest of blankets, which happened to be the one on my bed. I pulled it off and carried it in to the other bedroom. I had some clothes hanging in there. They were off-season things, summer sundresses, light coats and blouses. I pulled them out on their hangers and laid them across the bed. There was a shelf in there. He would be forced to kind of slouch or crouch to fit. Yeah, my home is definitely not cozy where visiting vampires are concerned. Not that it should have been.

If he had to stay another night, maybe we could see about getting a travel coffin delivered for him to sleep in or something. There are places you can rent them. I've seen the commercials on television. It's amazing how many new types of businesses have come about in the wake of the vampires' great coming out event. Rent-a-coffin, mail order blood, the Virtual Sunlight videos, the Natur-Skin home tanning program, specifically designed to normalize the ghostly pallor of undeath. Of course it goes the other way too, with bars like Eric's and his vampire security company. There were vampire performers and entertainers. It's really no wonder that the Great Revelation had gone over so well in the United States. The vampires were an economy unto themselves.

I dug out a flashlight and gave it to Eric to hold and point at the door when he appeared in the front bedroom wearing naught but a towel wrapped around his hips. I ducked into the closet and it seemed to me like the tape wouldn't even be necessary. I explained this, and apologized about the dimensions, and told him my plan if he were forced to stay again. He balled up his fists. I could tell he was frustrated.

His pad and pen were still on the table. Maybe I should get him a little chalkboard to wear around his neck. He wouldn't thank me for that, I bet.

My phone started ringing then. I rushed past Eric to answer it in the kitchen, fully expecting it to be Pam. It wasn't.

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Three-thirty. "Jason? What's wrong?"

"Sook, is Hadley with you?" This night just gets better and better.

"How long has she been gone?"

"I dropped her off at Merlotte's around eight, she said she'd call me if she couldn't get a ride home. Bar's been closed for a couple of hours now. I called Sam Merlotte up and woke him to ask if he'd seen her. He said she'd come in for dinner, but hadn't stayed much longer than that."

"You let her go alone?"

"I was meeting a friend. She didn't want to be the third wheel. It was _her_ idea!"

"Damn it!"

I was about to tell Jason to call the police, when I realized that there was nothing they could do. Technically, Hadley was already a missing person. As far as I knew, they hadn't paid a visit to the local station to get the status she'd had for the last few years lifted. Apart from that, it seemed incredibly unlikely that Hadley would have been taken by anyone the Bon Temps police department would be able to apprehend.

I found myself wishing, very hard, that she'd simply run away again.

Jason wanted to know what he should do, and I didn't have a single idea. I said I'd call him back. I left a message for Niall. I sure felt like a damned nuisance to him lately.

Eric had come up behind me, but when I didn't acknowledge him he sat back down at the table. His towel had come unwrapped as he hunched in the chair, and I took it as a measure of my own worry that I couldn't dwell on what he was displaying. He held up his pad again.

_Do the fairies have your cousin?_

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I have to hope that Niall will find her if they do. This is going to kill Gran."

I slumped down into a chair beside him, and he leaned over and rubbed by leg awkwardly. I suppose it was meant to be comforting. I tried to let it be.

Pam called in the few minutes that we continued to sit in the kitchen to inform us that she was about to enter the shed. We didn't expect her to have cellphone reception therein. I reminded her to shut the phone off so she wouldn't drain its battery and we agreed to speak an hour after first dark tomorrow, or later today, anyway. That would give her enough time to get somewhere safe. We wouldn't hear from her again tonight unless the witches breached her hiding place.

I knew as soon as she entered because Eric went rigid. Without his sight, he seemed to be focusing very hard on his other senses, which would include his bond to Pam. He would have felt it dim as she moved through the veil of the protective magic. It was too bad that Jack Mason had rescinded Eric's invitation to enter his property. That probably would have been a better hiding place for both of them.

I was too tense to go to sleep, and so Eric and I sat up with the television on low volume until nearly dawn. It was some program about this Visigoths that I probably would have found interesting if I'd been able to focus on it. Close to dawn I realized I was being carried down the hall toward my bedroom. I must have dozed off in spite of myself. I started to squirm and protest but it only made Eric stop walking and clutch me tighter. I guess he had the need to feel useful, even to a small extent. I could understand that, so I let him. After he'd successfully put me down on the bed, I caught his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Can I tuck you in as well?" I asked. He scowled, but nodded.

I ended up putting a chair from the kitchen into the closet so he could sit. His knees were still bent right up against the wall, but it was probably more comfortable than anything else. I shut him in and made sure the door was covered, and the window. I folded a towel up lengthwise and laid it down below the bedroom's outer door in the hallway. I felt Tray arrive outside just as the sun came up and a moment later, the void of Eric's mind blinked out of existence.

I'd never been around a sleeping vampire before. For an instant I panicked, worrying that somehow I'd missed some sliver of light and he had already burned up to his final death. I couldn't go in to check of course. I'm sure I would have heard some thrashing around, if that had happened. I went back to my own bed and felt the space with my mind until I finally found him again. It was different from the void of his wakeful brain; a denser part of the empty space. I would have easily missed it if I weren't looking so hard. I focused on it entirely as I finally drifted off to sleep myself.


	22. Vampire to the Heel

A/N: The SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. This story is being beta'd by FiniteAnarchy, who is brilliant. Are you reading Dead Memories? Things are really heating up there. In a figurative sense. It's still early January in her story. It's exciting, is the point I'm trying to make here.

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Chapter 22 - Vampire to the Heel

I slept for barely an hour before Jason called me again, up and ready for work. I had no idea how he wasn't exhausted. If I had actually stopped and thought about it, it would have been easy to figure out. When he woke and realized that Hadley hadn't ever come home, he'd called me and made it my problem then gone right back to sleep.

Jason intended to stop by the hospital to see our grandmother on his way to work, as he had been doing the past couple of days when he dropped off Hadley.

"What should I tell Gran?" he asked, sounding apprehensive.

"Tell her the truth," I said groggily. "Tell her Hadley never came home last night."

"Be serious, Sookie."

"I am being serious, Jason. Feel free to omit the bit about how you ditched your cousin to go hang out with some woman last night, but we have to tell her Hadley is missing."

"Do you think that's a good idea? With her heart?"

"Do you think it's a good idea for her to find out later?" I countered. I'm sorry to admit I'm a practiced enough liar to recognize when it's a good time to do so and when it isn't. This would be a time when it wouldn't do to lie.

I could practically see Jason with his hand on the scruff of his neck in sulking resignation.

"Alright. I'll tell her. What time are you gonna be down here today?"

"I... Actually I don't think I will be coming down today," I replied, rubbing my eyes and glaring at the clock. I wanted Jason to leave me alone. I wanted to go back to sleep.

"What?"

"I need to stay around the house today. I might be down tonight, but I can't promise it. I'll make the phone calls about getting her car towed out this afternoon, and I'll call her to check in a little later."

"I thought you had off all week."

"I do."

"So why can't you come down?"

"Something's come up. It's personal."

"I'm telling Gran," he informed me, with the air of a tattletale.

"You do that, right after you tell her about Hadley. And you tell her I'll call her around lunchtime."

"I don't know what's gotten into you Sookie."

"What do you mean?"

"You're acting like..."

"What? Acting like _you_?" I fired back.

"Now you hold up..." he warned.

"That's all I ever do Jason Stackhouse is hold up! Now I was up 'til dawn, so I am going back to sleep. I will talk to you later. Don't call me again unless you find our cousin or something else goes wrong!"

With that, I disconnected. I tossed my phone back on the bed. It bounced once and I pulled the covers back over my head. I'd stolen the ugly afghan from the living room couch for in here, since my good blanket was currently serving as sunscreen. I was annoyed. They needed to invent a cellphone you could slam down, just for moments like that when someone really deserved getting hung up on with that emphatic gesture.

I woke up again around eleven to the sound of someone knocking at my door. It was Mr. Eric-Only-Likes-You-Cause-You-Have-Fairy-Blood, my bodyguard.

I thought it over quickly, unsure if Eric would be comfortable having Tray in the house while he was resting in quarters that were insecure at best. I figured if he had sent Tray to guard me, he would probably trust him enough to allow him inside.

I opened the door. Tray's expression faltered momentarily and it was only then that I realized I had fallen asleep in yesterday's clothes, my hair was a complete rat's nest, and I probably had mascara under my bloodshot eyes.

"Uh, morning," he stammered. "I didn't see you moving around, I was starting to worry you weren't here."

"I'm here," I said flatly.

"Rough night?"

"You could say that," I agreed, beckoning him inside.

Tray sat down at my kitchen table while I got a pot of coffee started and then excused myself to wash up. I took a long shower, and emerged feeling slightly more like a person. I dressed in a sweater and jeans, pretty much the same as I'd worn the day before. I thought about drying my hair too, but I didn't want to leave Tray alone any longer. I noticed my hand was healing up nicely, and didn't bother putting a new bandage back on. I was pleased to see that I was back to my normal fast healing. Probably a deal faster than normal, all things considered.

Tray had helped himself to a mug of coffee, and taken one down from the cabinet for me. I filled it and drank and felt my internal humanity meter bump up a few more notches.

"So, about yesterday," Tray said, turning around in his chair to look at me. I hadn't sat down with him, I was standing against the counter breathing in my Columbian Supreme.

"Hm?"

"I think I might have said something insensitive. I'm working for Eric, and, for you, and I work with you normally now. It's not my place to speculate on the nature of things between you and him. I'm sorry for making that comment."

I nodded. I'd known that was coming of course. He'd been steeling himself since I walked in the room, but I hadn't been about to make it easy for him.

"I accept your apology. I don't exactly understand the nature of my relationship with Eric myself, but you're right that it's not your place to speculate either."

He nodded his agreement. "We're okay then?"

"We're okay."

"So," he said, exhaling in relief. "What's on the agenda today? Back to Bon Temps?"

"No," I said. "I have some calls to make, but I'm hoping everything with the car can be done over the phone. I'm not leaving this house today."

"Okay. Everything alright?"

"Not really. My cousin's gone missing. Oh, and Eric's in the spare room, so don't open that door."

"He's here? Dead?"

I nodded again. "They got into a fight last night and it didn't go so well. He's hiding out. I guess they didn't think it was safe for him to go home."

"Damn. And your cousin's gone?"

"My brother called me up close to four when he realized she hadn't come home."

"Are they related? Were they fighting fairies?"

That was a terrifying thought.

"No. They were witches. Witches, and some of them were Weres. The vamps weren't expecting the two-natured part of that equation."

"Were witches? Last I heard the Shreveport Pack didn't even have a Shaman."

"They're not from here. They blew into town, made some demands of Eric...You know about the last brush they had with the coven around here... I guess he just wasn't going to hedge his bets. He wanted to take them out pronto."

"I didn't get the whole story, I just got the girl, Pam, I guess, out of that invisible building," he said, shaking his head.

"Right, well, it was the local coven that put her there. After that, as you can imagine, neither of them is feeling too kindly about negotiating with magic users."

It wasn't that I was fine with the vampires jumping straight to murder as a means of problem solving, but the truth was that I couldn't feel a lot of pity for these people. They had been playing with fire.

I finished my first cup of coffee and set about fixing some things for lunch. It was early yet, but I was hungry. I settled on ham and egg sandwiches, using up the rest of the Christmas ham between Tray and myself.

"Someone should probably let Colonel Flood know if there are strange Weres in Shreveport."

"I thought you weren't Pack," I said.

"I'm not, but I stay friendly. Something like this, he'd want to know. Weres coming in and trying to pick a fight with vamps, that could cause problems for his people."

"I'm not saying I don't agree, but I would ask that you wait until sundown and Eric wakes up to talk to him before you go making phone calls. Should only be about six hours."

"Alright," he agreed, reluctantly.

"And..." I began.

Tray looked surprised, as though I could not possibly have more bad news. Well, I did.

"They were using spells in the fight. So, when you talk to Eric, it'll be more like um, you'll talk, and he'll write down his responses."

"He can't talk?" Tray asked. It was like someone had just tickled him.

"It's not funny," I said sternly.

"Sorry, yeah. It's not funny."

We stared at each other for a moment. He was unable to conceal his smile, which triggered mine. I couldn't help it.

"Any other situation, and it might be... but his not being able to communicate with his people is a big problem. And Pam..."

I sobered again, instantly.

"God, I don't even know if she'll make it through the day. The place where she's at... you've seen it. If they find her, they won't have a problem getting in."

"Damn," Tray said again. He had his arms folded across his chest in a stance that would have been forbidding if it weren't for the way he was fidgeting with his elbow. He was thinking.

"I've got to make some phone calls," I said, not being entirely sure of where to start. "I don't suppose you know of a repair shop out by Bon Temps?" I chuckled weakly.

As it turned out, Tray did. A buddy of his owned a shop not far from Granger.

"I was gonna buy him out at one point," Tray confessed to me. "But then I got this job working for the vampire. It wouldn't have been bad; set my own hours, be my own boss, and I like working with engines, but what I'm doing now is more reliable income."

"And he's good, this guy? Your friend?"

"I can make the call if you like," he offered, and I took him up on it while I went to call Gran.

"Hi honey," she greeted warmly.

"Hey Gran, how are you holding up?"

"I'm feeling fine. Maybe not tip-top, but I'm ready to get out of this bed." She was grumbling, but with good nature.

"What do the doctors say?"

"Well they don't even say hello, I'll tell you that. It's just in and out and tests and..."

I let Gran go on, straining to keep my attention focused on what she was saying. I felt awful that she was stuck there all day with no one to talk to, though it did seem like she'd developed a good rapport with the nurses, if not the doctors. It was mostly her talking for a good fifteen minutes before I had the chance to tell her that a friend of mine was going to see about her car.

"A friend of yours?" she asked.

"From work," I clarified. Cause Lord knows as well as Gran that I don't actually have any real friends.

It wasn't a time for the poor-me's. Some things in life are simply true, and this is one of them. I know too much about things I can't say anything about to have any human friends. I'd managed to hold on to a couple through high school, other misfits like me. Then I'd gone off to college, and they hadn't. I'd moved to Shreveport, and they hadn't, and here I was. The best girlfriend I'd had growing up, Tara Thornton, had sent me a Christmas card last week. It was currently adorning my kitchen cabinet with the others. That was what we had these days. Among the supes, well, I'd basically have to out myself to gain entrée into any of those establishments, and that was just not possible.

Gran worries about my being alone; about my being lonely. It's not just my lack of boyfriends that she has in mind.

"Brenda?" she asked. Persistent woman.

"No, a new guy. Tray Dawson. He's over today helping me take care of some things at the house."

"Yes, Jason said you wouldn't be down today. He was pretty put out about it."

"Yeah," I said regretfully. In the face, or voice, of Gran, I did feel ashamed about how I'd talked to him earlier. "I wasn't too nice to him this morning," I admitted.

"He told me Hadley didn't come home last night."

"Apparently not," I said. "I'm worried, Gran."

"She'll be back," Gran said with singular confidence. "She didn't come home just to leave again."

"Gran, what if something happened to her?" I needed her to brace herself.

"What could happen to her?"

The worst. "Anything," I answered helplessly.

"She'll be back," Gran said again, firmly, and I let it go.

We spoke for a while longer. I apologized again that I couldn't make it down there today and she forgave me out of hand. She never once asked me what was keeping me away. She really was too good a woman.

I got off the phone and returned to Tray and he let me know that his friend would get the car towed out to the shop this evening and I could call for an estimate tomorrow. I thanked him, and then tried to move on to the next problem.

There wasn't a damn thing I could do about Hadley. We could try going to the bar. Tray was willing to go and shift to see if he could smell anything. The problems with that were severalfold. A giant wolf in a busy parking lot during the lunch rush would draw lots of attention from the many humans whose many smells had likely obscured any trace of Hadley anyway. I was determined not to leave Eric unattended in the house, and I was equally resolved to stick with Tray. I was afraid. There was no point in denying it. I wasn't about to do something foolish; not today. We were stuck here until Eric woke up. What would we do if we found traces of fairy, or even of Were, at the bar anyway? We would _know_, but then what?

What I wouldn't give to borrow Gran's rose-colored glasses.

After the tense and ultimately fruitless discussion of Hadley, I was desperate to find something that I _could_ do to try to make matters better. Any matters at all would do really, I wasn't about to be picky. I found myself unmaking my bed and washing my sheets just so I could feel like I had a handle on _something_. I would have to call Jason at some point in time. I couldn't stay on the outs with him. I did need him to pick up the slack, to tend to Gran, not only tonight but in the coming days and weeks.

I realized after the pillowcases were safely in the dryer that there _was_ something I could do, or at least something I could look in to. I called information and got the phone number for the Genuine Magic Shop in New Orleans that Holly had suggested to get the wards installed at Jason's house, and Gran's. After a few rings, a cheerful voice answered.

"Hi there," I said. "I'm calling to inquire about magical warding for my property, and I have some questions about spells."

"The Genuine Magic Shop specializes in occult supplies and does in-house tarot card readings in the heart of the French Quarter," the voice replied, like it was reading an advertisement.

"Okay. That's good to know. Um, I was referred to you by a friend of mine who suggested that you might be able to help me with-"

"We at the Genuine Magic Shop offer a variety of instructional books on all manner of mystical lore," the voice interrupted.

I frowned. "Is there some kind of secret password I'm supposed to say here?"

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"Abracadabra, Please-and-Thank-you?" I tried, frustrated.

The phone clicked. Rude! I called back immediately.

The same voice answered. "Genuine Magic Shop, how can I help you?"

"Hi, listen, I'm sorry. I think I said the wrong thing. My friend Holly Cleary told me I might be able to speak to someone there about spell-"

"The Genuine Magic Shop does not take kindly to prank calls. Have a blessed day."

Click.

What a witc...a bitc... a _jerk_!

I stared at the phone in frustration before glancing at Tray. From his seat at the table, he'd probably heard enough to get the gist.

"Hung up?"

"She thought I was prank calling her."

"They probably get a lot of that," Tray excused. I wasn't in the mood. I wasn't sure how to proceed here. How do you give your supernatural bona fides over the phone?

I dialed the number again.

"Genuine Magic Shop," the same voice responded, sounding irritated.

"This is Sookie Stackhouse calling on behalf of Eric Northman the Vampire Sheriff of Area Five. My sponsor is Desmond Cataliades, and if I'm speaking to a witch who works for the supes in New Orleans, then you know who _he_ is. Now I want to speak to your boss. Please."

I deflated slightly as I finished, but I'd gone in swinging. It had the desired effect.

The voice was nearly quavering when it requested that I, "Please hold."

"Who's Desmond Cataliades?" Tray asked.

I put my hand over the receiver as I muttered in response, "The Queen's demon lawyer."

He let out a low whistle and I didn't respond because a deep alto voice rumbled across the line. It was a black woman, and her name was Octavia Fant. I always thought it was weird that I could tell the color of someone's skin just by hearing their voice, but it's not just me. It's been studied. A tip of the hat to the linguistics courses I'd taken, there. Initially I'd thought those classes were an odd requirement, considering my field, until I realized that the evolution of language is just another way of tracking the history of any given culture. This woman was speaking resonantly from the creole culture unique to New Orleans. Was I talking to a real live voodoo queen?

Unlike the lesser witch whose duties included phone answering, this woman was not intimidated when I name-dropped Eric and Mr. C, but she _was_ a great deal more communicative.

We talked about my options, and Eric's. Since he had killed the spellcaster (I'd said she was "definitely unavailable," and left the witch to fill in that blank), getting his magic undone was apparently a lot more complicated. I was careful to ask my questions as hypothetical, doing my best to give the impression that some vampire in Eric's retinue had been afflicted. It was probably bad enough that I'd told Tray. Eric wouldn't want strangers knowing, and besides, I didn't know the woman on the other end of the line from Eve. She seemed to know her stuff though. She certainly talked the talk.

As for the wards, Holly had definitely pointed me in the right direction. Apparently they have several different packages on offer for their supe clientèle, but she listened as I discussed my needs and then assured me that they would be able to help with "most of that." Since I live far away, I'd have to pay for transportation for the person who came to set them up, in addition to their usual fees. It would be money well spent.

I had a lot to do once we hung up. The bottom line was that we needed to go to New Orleans, tonight. As I packed up a bag for myself I called Mr. Cataliades.

"Miss Stackhouse, it is a pleasure to hear from you. I have been meaning to call to thank you for the lovely basket that you sent to the office."

"I'm glad you liked it," I smiled.

"And I understand there have been, ah, _many happenings_ there of late. I trust you are well?"

"I am. There's a lot, yes. I'm sure you know about Hadley and the fire. Do you know about Wallace?"

"I have heard something about that, yes."

Of course he had. Mr. Cataliades is a man of information. He hadn't known about Hadley's vanishing, which was too recent, and he hadn't heard a thing about these Were-witches. That didn't really surprise me, since the only way he would have found out is if someone had informed the Queen, and it appeared that Eric and Pam had believed they could handle this locally. It just goes to show that even with a combined twelve-hundred years of existence, they could still be (ahem) _dead _wrong, sometimes.

Like everyone else I'd spoken to about this, I was careful to warn Cataliades about the delicacy of this matter, but I trust him more than practically anyone I know, so I wasn't too worried that he'd spill the beans to his employer. I asked him where the vamps stayed down there since it was pretty clear after talking to Octavia that we'd be down for at least a night. I'd worry about explaining all these plans to Eric when he woke up.

"Blood in the Quarter is the vampire hotel in the city, but you would be very _conspicuous_ staying there. Both you, and the Sheriff. If I may suggest, perhaps a light-tight room in a regular hotel. Maybe even outside the city. In Metairie, or out by the airport."

"That sounds like a good idea," I agreed.

"I am known to have them, now and again," he said. I smiled again.

"Perhaps we can meet tomorrow during the day, if I'm still in town?" I asked.

"Unfortunately, I find I am inundated with work this week. The Queen seems to have settled on Arkansas, and we've begun negotiating a preliminary proposal contract."

Mr. Cataliades suggested instead that I might see "the girls" tomorrow, referring to Gladiola and Diantha, and that thought sounded just as good. I'd make sure to pack their Christmas presents. After we hung up, I looked online and found a small guest house in Mandeville that offered a room suitable for a vampire's day-rest. It was on the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, north of the city. It wouldn't offer the security of a place like Blood in the Quarter. This was a major part of the appeal of such establishments where the vamps were concerned, but the obscurity of the place would serve us just as well. Definitely a good call by Mr. C.

When I called Jason, still at work, it was clear he had not forgotten our earlier spat. Okay, _my_ earlier bitchiness - even if he _did_ deserve it. He's my brother and he knows exactly how and when to push my buttons. Since I'd spent the afternoon gaining purpose and direction, I felt a lot better. I had a lot of problems, but at least a couple of them were lined up to be solved. I told him about the car before I told him I was going out of town for the night.

He started to get indignant about that but I wasn't going to let him get me riled up again, so I told him flatly that I'd spoken to Gran, that I'd have my cellphone, and that if Hadley didn't turn up by this evening, he should file a report with the police. He didn't like that. He would have wanted me to do it, but he agreed that he would and would keep in touch with me. Once again I was grateful that even if responsibility didn't come naturally to Jason, he could be shown the way. I remained at a loss for how to look for her via supernatural means. Oh! Maybe the witches in New Orleans could track Hadley the way the Were-witches here were tracking Pam? I'd call Jason once I knew he was home and ask him to look around for her hairbrush. It was worth a shot.

When I returned to the front of the house, I saw that Tray had flipped on the lights in the kitchen and living room, the latter being where he was at the moment. The television was on the news and the volume was barely audible to me. I guess he's got more sensitive ears. He was watching Judge Judy. I glanced at the screen for a moment and I could just tell by the look on her face that she was about to cut someone down to size. I don't have a whole lot of opportunity to watch daytime television, but when I do, I usually try to find this program. That woman is great.

I felt the presence of Eric's mind sort of come into being in the bedroom just as I finished remaking my bed. The sun was still setting and the sky was that hazy mix of purple and orange. It was pretty enough, as sunsets tend to be, but it wasn't the time of year nor the right kind of weather for something truly spectacular. I found myself pitying Eric for being unable to come out and see it nonetheless. It only took a few minutes for the golden light to fade, and at that point I went and knocked on the door and called out that I was leaving his clothes outside, and informed him, unnecessarily, that Tray was here.

I sort of hovered near the door with a new pad and pen. What I wanted to know, immediately, was if Pam was alright, and I figured I had better fill him in before we talked to the Were. He cracked the door open and beckoned to me, and once again I was forced to endure his glorious nudity. Thankfully, for my nerves at least, he covered up quickly, nodding an affirmative when I asked if he could sense Pam and shaking his head when I asked if he had any indication she was in peril.

Before zipping and buttoning his jeans he took the time to write.

_They will be waiting to scry her at full dark. She will wait a time and then contact us. I will write you what to say to her. Tell me about today._

I did, as briefly and succinctly as possible. He was not happy about our plan, evidenced by his concerned expressions, shaking of his head, and writing out:

_This is a bad idea._

"You got a better one?" I fired back. "You're going to have your people hunt down the witches and then what? You killed the one who left you speechless and it didn't seem to cure you."

_I thought maybe when I woke_

He'd scribbled the last. There was quite a variance in his handwriting; some of it was neat, and some barely legible. It actually surprised me that he would have messy handwriting at all. He'd had literally centuries of depending on handwritten communication. I would have thought that amount of practice would make him consistently good. I guess it was being influenced by the speed at which he wrote. It was probably a fair gauge of his emotional state, come to that. Huh. Maybe I can 'read' something more from this vampire after all.

I told him again about the woman I'd spoken with, Octavia. I told him I would go with him to see her, and read her mind, and the minds of any of her helpers, and make sure they weren't going to harm him. I would have offered to let him wear the pendant if it wasn't made of silver. I would wear it, just to be safe. I told him that if I caught the slightest whiff of bad intentions coming from the witches I would inform him immediately, and I would say nothing in protest if he chose to kill them all in a blind rage frenzy and glut himself on their blood.

Apparently even vampire men need coddling from time to time.

He could feel my amusement, and possibly my exasperation.

_You are making a joke._

"Yes, I'm making a joke. A bad joke. I wouldn't want you to really do that. These are people who do regular business with the supes down in New Orleans. I was referred to them by a Wiccan who hardly gets a bad thought in her head about anyone. I talked to this Fant woman for almost an hour while you were dead for the day, and I feel like if anyone can help, it's her. I really believe this is the best option we have for getting you back to rights as quickly as possible."

He reached out, fingertips brushing down my arm as his hand came up only slightly off his mark. He squeezed my hand in what I presumed to be acknowledgment of my sincerity. It was only in subtle gestures like that since he'd been awake that I was reminded of the fact that he was without his sight. When I spoke, his eyes were trained on me. When I moved, his head turned towards me. I was tempted to make faces at him, just to see if he'd notice, but it wasn't the time. He still wasn't sold. He was writing again.

_We will capture the witches who did this and make them reverse it._

"I think there are a lot of if's in that statement. _If_ you can catch them, _if_ they would be willing," I paused, knowing exactly what he had in mind to _make_ them do it. "You've killed some of them already and their leader, so they know they will die regardless. What is to compel them to give in to you before they do?"

_That they die more quickly._

I felt myself pale as the words appeared, so straightforward. I swallowed hard.

"That method will still take time. The priority is getting you cured. Take the revenge out of the equation. That... you can deal with that later," I finished.

When he did not respond again right away, I knew he'd agreed. Still holding my hand, he lifted my arm and nuzzled it in what was becoming a familiar way. I heard his fang snick out in the quiet room and he looked over at me as if in question. Maybe I would have let him, simply to make him feel better, if he hadn't just reminded me of his darker nature. I certainly wasn't feeling sexy at the moment. I started to pull away.

"I'll warm you up a bottle," I said gently. "I have a long drive ahead of us. I can't be tired."

He nodded reluctantly and pressed his lips against my wrist before releasing my hand, then he took up the paper and pen again and began to write his instructions for Pam.

"Oh, and Tray's out here waiting for a word with you. He knows about the muteness. He wants to tell Flood about the Were-witches. I made him wait until you could have your say before calling."

He nodded again and I found myself leaning over to kiss the top of his head where he sat on the bed before leaving to heat up the blood. It seemed like a natural gesture to me as I did it, but once I stood in the kitchen I had to wonder if maybe I'd offended him, treating him like a baby. He hadn't even looked up from his writing.

Eric didn't have a conversation with Tray. He handed him a list of things he wanted to convey to Colonel Flood and the Shreveport Weres and then sat down with his blood to continue writing to Pam. Tray read it over quickly, didn't have any questions, and then headed off for the night. Before he left, I took his phone number and told him I'd call him when we were back, if we would need him to resume guarding me for the rest of the week. He was a good guy. I hoped for his sake that he didn't get drawn in to any response the Shreveport Pack might make to this incursion on their territory.

Eric had several tasks for Pam to accomplish, and I certainly hoped she had someone to delegate to. She was, after all, actively on the run. She had indeed stolen a car the night before, and had left it in the parking lot of a shopping center, intact. It would be found. She was a very considerate larcenist. Pam was also a step ahead of Eric, having already confirmed that all of the vampires who had been at the fight last night, except for Gerald, who was finally dead, had risen. No one had been attacked during the daylight hours. That was very good. Notice had to be posted that Fangtasia would not be opening tonight, and Eric's other businesses would need to be checked up on. Eric had given Colonel Flood Pam's contact information, since he obviously couldn't take any calls.

After all the administrative work had been taken care of, Eric's people would actually need to track down the witches. The initial plan would be to select somewhere for the vampires to meet and lie in wait, while Pam served as the bait. When the witches honed in on her, it would be an ambush. With any luck they would be able to capture the attackers, and from there, track down the rest of the witches.

It wasn't a bad plan, all things considered. Choosing the ground on which the battle was staged would give the vampires the upper hand. If by chance they were to be overwhelmed again, then the terrain advantage _should_ provide them with the opportunity to retreat to safety.

Pam approved of our going to seek out a more immediate cure to Eric's spell damage. I could tell that made Eric angry. I think he had anticipated her relying on him for the fight, but she hadn't. She had assumed he would be absent anyway. As the primary target, his blindness left him doubly vulnerable. I knew he understood this rationally, but it clearly pissed him off to be counted out. He went very rigid in his seat, his face very hard, as she and I talked around him. I wasn't sure if she could feel what I was seeing, but we closed the conversation speaking very carefully.

Eric wanted to meet her before we left for New Orleans. Evidently there were some things he didn't feel comfortable having me communicate by proxy.

"This is a bad idea," I stated, throwing back his own words from earlier. "The whole point of him, of you," I turned away from the phone and spoke to Eric directly. "being here is a safety measure. It's too dangerous. This is just like when there's a national emergency. The president and the vice president never go to the same location."

Eric wasn't having it. He had conceded all that he meant to concede this evening when he agreed to come to New Orleans. He locked down.

We came up with a location to meet just north of the city. Hopefully that would also throw them off. If the witches happened to catch us there, they would think we were heading north.

I was already packed for an overnight trip, and Eric didn't have any possessions beyond his billfold and keys. I asked him if he wanted to stop home to get anything.

"It might be safe to go now, if they're tracking Pam."

_I'm sure it's too dangerous._

He underlined the words with slashing motions that spoke his disgust. They were a little lopsided and ran across the letters. I guess it _is_ possible to be sarcastic in mere text. To be fair, I also had his sour expression to go off of.

I heated some blood for Pam and wrapped the bottles in a towel. It would probably be lukewarm by the time we reached her, but that was better than cold. She hadn't had time to stop for dinner.

We arrived at the designated meeting place, a public park, just as a man was leaving with his dog, and about five minutes ahead of Pam. Eric was furiously writing out last-minute instructions for her that I figured were probably unnecessary. Pam was coming across as extremely competent in this so far. She'd been quick thinking, had secured everyone's safety, especially her master's, and was now organizing a shrewd offensive. Pam is probably underutilized in her daily life.

Pam arrived in an old powder blue station wagon, clearly another "loaner" of some sort. She'd come across a change of clothes as well. It was too hard for me to tell if they were her own.

"Flood's meeting me here," she said without delay as she joined us. We were standing outside. We'd be sitting for long enough. I handed over her blood, which was still warm-ish, and she nodded gratefully, immediately gulping down one bottle and then the second in rapid succession. It reminded me of an athlete, carbo-loading for extra energy before a big game. Possibly that was the only way she could stomach the tepid substance.

I excused myself so they could have their one-sided colloquy. It was too bad Eric couldn't talk. I didn't see how we'd converse in the car for the long drive, as it's not like I could look away from the road for long moments at a time to read any notes he wrote, and not like I would really be able to read them in the dark, anyway.

I remembered to call Jason and ask him after Hadley's hairbrush. I was grateful to find him at home and not out gallivanting.

"Whaddya need it for?" he asked, as he went to search. That caught me up short.

"I thought maybe someone could find her if I had it," I answered, distracted.

"What, like a bloodhound?"

"Yeah, something like that. Listen Jason, call me back if you find it okay? It might be she's got it in her purse anyway."

I could smell magic. It had clung to Eric, faintly. I'd noticed it last night after he'd got out of the shower and still smelled not quite like himself. The spells were present on him; just shy of tangible but there. It was easy enough to ignore. This was like that smell, fainter, but...more. I hung up on Jason for the second time today and pushed my mind out even as I walked quickly over to Eric and Pam, nearly colliding with them as searched outward with my whole attention.

"Magic," I hissed, "all around." They both drew up to attention. There was a very thin fog lying low on the ground all around us. That's not abnormal just after dark when the air is cooling down, but _this_ fog was abnormal. I was certain. "Keep clear of the fog," I whispered.

"It's time to go," said Pam, but she was too late.

"Were!" I yelled needlessly as the creature came barreling out of the darkness, directly towards the three of us. There was another mind hovering at some distance in the same direction, almost beyond my sense. The witch was holding back to weave the magic while the Were did the work of brute force.

Eric whirled, arms flailing, and on instinct I ducked. I watched as he caught the creature on its flank as it leapt toward Pam, halting its forward progress and hurling it back as if it had been struck by a steel turnstile. The wolf landed sprawled but was quickly on its feet again and now it was growling, circling.

Pam hurled the empty bottle still in her hand at the wolf, catching it squarely in its massive head as she dropped to a fighting crouch. He shook off the blow as if it had been no more than a buzzing fly that landed. Eric's was a sideways stance, putting his ear to the beast. His fangs were out. I'm sure Pam's were, too.

"Only two. Another witch far back the same way he came from," I whispered.

Pam took a step forward, shifting slightly to the side. Eric's hand found my shoulder and he gave me a short sharp shove backward. I think he was trying to keep me out of the way, but I wasn't expecting it, and it may not have been aimed exactly where it ought to have been. I stumbled, and the Were charged, trying to shoot through the hole between Eric and Pam, right towards me, the obvious weak link.

I scrabbled backward on my butt, not making more than a few inches' progress. Pam launched herself toward it, catching it by the scruff of the neck and careening sideways. They tumbled to the side and came down hard with Pam on top of it. The Were was snapping at Eric and the fog was encroaching, creating a killing ring; the bounds of which we dared not cross. I had no idea the effects of the magic being worked. I struggled to focus on the distant mind of the spell weaving witch but she - I could at least tell it was a _she_ - was blocking me out. I heard Eric let out a sharp gasp that probably would have been a roar.

Apart from the Were's snarling and the scuffle of feet or fur on concrete it was absolutely quiet. I'd expect a fight to the death to be louder than this; more clamor, more shouting. This was positively eerie.

I heard a ripping sound and realized the Were had gotten hold of Eric's pants leg. Pam was still struggling to hold it to the ground. The contact the wolf made with Eric's legs seemed to have been enough to give Eric a sense of the creature's position and reach, even sightless, and I watched as he drove a fist directly into snapping jaws.

Suddenly the wolf started to buck wildly, and Pam was shifting on top of it, nearly thrown off. It looked like the thing was devouring Eric's arm, hand first, but I knew that wasn't the case. He'd driven a fist straight down the creature's throat and was choking it from the inside. Blood was streaming from the creature's mouth and running down its chest, further darkening its greyish pelt. With a final burst of strength the wolf began to throw its head from side to side trying to dislodge Eric's hand. Instead, Eric withdrew in a flash and caught the animal by its jaw, holding it in his iron grip as the creature thrashed a final time, breaking its own neck. It went limp without so much as a whimper.

The witch must have sensed her companion's imminent demise, because the next time I checked, she was gone, the fog evaporating into the night.

I was pointing in the direction I had last sensed her, my eyes unable to break away from the form of the wolf who was shifting back into a man. He had a hole in his throat. My stomach roiled. Pam dashed away with vampire speed while Eric stood, bloody, over the corpse.

The pale glow of silvery blue light coming from the nearest lamppost made the blood look black and his skin glow even more than it normally did, to my eyes. He looked every bit the angel and the demon in that moment. Not the real ones, of course, but the ones from stories.

I sat there on the ground until I heard a car approaching, the sound wrenching me out of my stupor. I scrambled to my feet and stood beside Eric, pulling at his arm so we both could turn away from the corpse.

"Two Weres, apprehensive, but not hostile. Male and female. Flood, I think, and someone else," I informed Eric. He drew his fangs in.

Pam reappeared then, empty handed as I knew she would be. She was at my side in a flash.

"It's time for you two to get on the road. Eric, I'll call later."

I nodded, fully ready to leave. Eric let me lead him to the car and we headed south.

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A/N: When I apologize for being bad about replying to reviews, people tend to assure me it is okay - but I wished to say a humble thank you to those of you who take the time to leave your comments regardless. It gets tricky when you are speculating, though I love that. Especially when you're wrong. I rub my fingertips together and grin maniacally. It's quite a sight.


	23. Make the Vampires Fly

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. I'm grateful to have FiniteAnarchy as the beta for this story. She's got a new chapter of Dead Memories up. Do check it out!

Thank you as always for the encouragement and feedback, those of you who leave reviews, or alert/favorite this story! I'm glad you're enjoying it.

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Chapter 23 – Make the Vampires Fly

I drove right past the exit that would have led us in the direction of Bon Temps. It was too far out of the way to go on a chance. Jason didn't call me back. Maybe he'd done as I asked and was busy filing, or renewing, a missing person's report for our cousin; or maybe the two of them were right now sitting out and sharing a beer, commiserating about what a freakazoid I was. It had always been a popular pastime for them when we were teenagers. I wasn't the only one who was focused on her own thoughts as we drove. Whatever Eric was focused on wasn't inside this car either.

About an hour into our journey south, I saw signs for a shopping mall and pulled off. Eric turned to face me when he felt the car slow and I explained. He couldn't be seen anywhere in his bloody clothes, and God forbid we get pulled over while he was still wearing them. The smell was starting to bother me as well. His fangs had run out again and stayed out as the pervasive odor had filled up the tiny space inside my car. The open window did little to help and it caused me to have to put the heat on full blast, which made my eyes dry.

I parked beneath burned out lamppost that the other cars had seemed to shun and was in and out of there as quick as I could be. Once Eric was the proud owner of two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, and a three-pack of briefs, courtesy of The Gap, we were on our way once again. I'd pulled the car around to a graffiti covered dumpster by the edge of the Mall parking lot so he could get out and change. He ditched his gore-spattered garments inside of it before getting back in the car. Of the two of us, he was the authority on disposing of such things, so I didn't question whether or not it was wise to leave them there.

"Pam okay?" I asked him.

He nodded.

I got tired of the silence after another half hour, and asked for his hand, switching on the radio and guiding him to the tuner. He settled on KDED, the vampire-owned radio station that played mostly classic rock music on the general theme of nighttime. There sure was a lot of that to choose from. They were playing "Hard Day's Night," by the Beatles. I could relate. We kept the volume low, just the same.

We had to stop for gas once. Eric got out and seemed by gesture to insist on pumping so I left him to it and ducked inside to take care of my human needs. The inside of the little convenience store smelled deliciously of fresh coffee so I fixed myself a cup on my way out and got one of those energy bars, just to keep me going. They had some TruBlood, and I bought a bottle and heated it up in the commercial microwave. I pushed the "beverage" button, hoping it would suffice. These things are more powerful than my microwave at home. I didn't want to burn it.

When I returned to the car, Eric was seated inside again. I handed him over his drink. He smelled it and then pulled a face as he took a sip.

"Sorry. I didn't know what setting to use on the machine in there."

He shook his head and gestured forwards. Time to go.

About an hour from our destination, I was both tired and sick of driving. My hand, which was still healing, hurt from gripping the steering wheel for so long. Eric began to rub across my neck and shoulders. It felt good and I told him so.

The place we were staying in Mandeville was a small guest house right on the lake. There were only five rooms, and only one was light-tight. The woman I'd spoken with over the phone had seemed pleasant enough. She'd done the renovating for the vampire room six months ago, and Eric would be her first vampire guest. Others had stayed in the room, she informed me, but only when the place had been at full occupancy.

When we arrived, rather than wait in the car, Eric opted to come up to the office. The door was closed and locked, but its top half consisted of a curtained window and I could easily see inside. A woman in her sixties was perched on the side of a comfortable looking love seat in a miniscule sitting area to the side of the check-in desk. She wore a floral patterned house coat and almost certainly had a nightgown on underneath it, along with a pair of slippers. Though they looked nothing alike, she immediately reminded me of Gran. She obviously lived on the premises. She hopped up immediately at the sound of my knock. She'd been waiting up for us.

"Hello! Come in, come in," she invited. _Thank you_.

"Eloise?" I asked. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse. We spoke on the phone this afternoon."

"Hello Miss Stackhouse. I was beginning to worry you wouldn't turn up tonight." It was after midnight. I'm sure it was well past her bedtime, but if she was interested in vampire business, she would need to adjust to vampire hours.

"We were a little held up getting on the road," I explained.

"You've come down from Shreveport?" she asked. I'd told her earlier. "You poor thing, you must be exhausted from the drive. Let's get you checked in."

She took my credit card and ran it through one of the old style roller machines that make a carbon impression of the actual card. She took the time to compare the signature on the guest form I filled out to the one on the back of my card before returning it. At some point I might need to mention the cash that I was laying out for this little excursion to Eric. He never did reimburse me for that pedicure.

"Are you two in town for business? Or a lovers' getaway?" she cheeked.

Just as I was about to answer, "Business," Eric snugged up beside me, wrapping his arm around my hip and pulling me toward him. He smiled down at me just as if he could see me.

"A little of both I guess." I was blushing.

"Well, you're down at the end," she beamed, producing the keys. "The windows are smaller than our other rooms and fitted with light screens and shutters that lock on the inside as a backup. It was certified light-tight according to the BVA standards back in July." She gestured to a framed certificate on the wall behind her. There were several other inspection certifications there, as well as a framed review from the travel section of a newspaper and an accreditation from the Better Business Bureau. Eloise was a proud proprietor.

"I'm sure it will be lovely," I smiled gratefully.

Eric followed me outside, keeping a hand resting on my back. Though it appeared to be an affectionate gesture, I figured it was mainly for the purpose of him being guided across the unfamiliar terrain. I grabbed my bag and his extra outfit out of the car. He took the suitcase out of my hand and we walked down the short row of guest rooms to the fifth door at the end.

This was a nice, quiet place. Evidently it didn't see much business during the off-season, but I could imagine it was very popular in the spring and summer. It was cute and cozy, well maintained with lots of fresh white and blue paint, and the owner was certainly friendly.

When I unlocked the main door, I met a very small anteroom with a single switch that activated an overhead light, and another locked, steel door. Since I'd expected to enter directly into the hotel room, I was a little confused. There wasn't even a coat rack. There was just enough space to move inside, close the door, move back, and open the second door. I realized then that if I expected to leave the room at all tomorrow, this setup was necessary. If the door opened directly to the outside, as it would in a regular hotel room, I wouldn't be able to open it during the day without exposing a sleeping Eric to sunlight. Well, well. Excellent foresight, BVA Light-Tight Certifications Committee!

The second door led to the room I expected with the usual bed, desk, chairs, television, and connected bathroom. I hadn't stayed in many hotel rooms, but this one seemed to conform to the standard. Eric set my bag down and began to move slowly across the room, fingers splayed very subtly out in front of his slightly extended arm. I let him familiarize himself with the space as I put my bag up on the little rack.

I sat down on the king-sized bed, mostly to keep myself out of his way, and frowned. It hadn't even occurred to me to wonder if this would be alright, us sleeping in the same bed. Maybe it wasn't too late to bother Eloise about getting another room, for me? The bed was large enough that we could probably share it without getting in each others' ways, unless he was naturally a sprawler.

I realized I'd voiced most of these concerns out loud, finally concluding with, "Are you going to feel safe resting with me in here?" I assumed that sharing a bed with a human in her full faculties was not something he did often, if ever. I chose not to think about the same situation featuring a human who had been glamoured. I didn't think I wanted to know.

Eric levitated a couple of feet off the ground and moved over to me. That was one way of avoiding anything you might trip over on the floor, I guess. When he was kneeling next to me, he caught me by both shoulders and mouthed, 'It is fine,' in a very deliberate way. I have no particular talent for lipreading, but I could understand that much.

Eric moved off the bed again, and I fished my phone out of my pocket to call Octavia Fant. When we'd spoken earlier, I'd done a thorough job of impressing upon the witch our need to get the unnamed vampire straightened out tout de suite. She'd agreed that we could meet her when we arrived, even after I'd warned her it would be very late. Hopefully she managed to have a nap earlier in the evening. I sure could have used one. I yawned after I'd hung up, having informed her that we'd be heading into the city shortly.

We had about four hours of darkness left tonight, and about half of that would be spent driving, much to my chagrin. This was really the better option though. We should be able to be in and out of New Orleans without the Queen or any member of her retinue knowing that Eric and his mysterious, fairy-scented companion had ever been here.

There just wasn't time for the shower I wanted so I scrubbed up as best I could and then we were off again.

Driving across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway is an experience in itself. Doing it in the dead middle of the night, with nary another car around, is downright creepy. There's absolute pitch black emptiness anywhere you look. I'm used to dark country roads, but then there are trees and the occasional deer, raccoon, or opossum. This was just bleak, with nothing but water and sky stretching out on either side of the narrow strip of road. Eric brought his hand up to my neck again, his fingers rubbing small circles. I appreciated his attempt to soothe my uneasiness, effective or not.

I'd read and re-read the direction of the Genuine Magic Shop before leaving the hotel, and only had to check them twice on the way there. We parked a couple of doors down from the shop, and just as I promised, I scanned everyone around. We were in the French Quarter, but not on Bourbon Street. There weren't any bars in the immediate vicinity, so the foot traffic was very light; limited to revelers making their inebriated ways home from the non-stop party going on a few blocks away. I could tell there were two minds inside the magic shop. I got out to take a closer look.

The shop window was hard to miss, being full of all sorts of figurines and talismans in many sizes and colors. There were shells, bottles, beads, bones, and even a human skull that I reckoned was real. There was only a low light coming from inside. Though it was more than any of the other shops on the street had on at this hour, it was clear they weren't open to the general public. I knocked on the door.

The man who answered had skin so black that his eyes and teeth twinkled like candles in a coal mine. It was dim in the doorway, which didn't help matters, but I could just make out tattoos around his eyes. He was older, well on his way to being gray-haired. He wasn't intimidating, physically, but I could practically _feel_ the power emanating from him.

"Miss Stackhouse?" he asked, in a soft voice.

"Sookie, yes. Pleased to meet you. I'm here to see Octavia Fant."

"I am Louis Chambers. We understood you were bringing a vampire with you. Where is it?"

"He," I corrected, "is in the car. I wanted to meet you before he comes in, if that's alright."

"Of course," he agreed, stepping back to allow me in. Mr. Chambers was as eager to feel me out as I was him. He smelled me as I passed through the doorway, something I'd never seen in a human before, and he was definitely that. A human with magic, but a human. It gives the mind a harder and smoother feel, like a stone from a river. He was cautious, and he was wondering _what_ I was. I listened as he ran through various clues in his mind. I looked and smelled human. I wasn't a witch, but I had enough knowledge of magic to know what to ask for and who to contact. I was escorting a vampire. Apparently my _aura_ was very bright and golden in color. Good to know. I tried to see it through his eyes, and smiled. It reminded me a little bit of the few occasions that Niall had let me see him in something approaching his true form. I wasn't nearly as radiant, though.

Surprisingly, it wasn't an uncomfortable couple of minutes that we stood there, each sizing the other up. The apprehension and curiosity I felt in him were not malevolent. My pendant stayed still. Now that I could see him, and his tattoos, in the better light, he did _look_ more intimidating, he didn't feel that way. With a mutual nod, we ended our respective appraisals, and he gestured for me to follow him to the back room.

It wasn't a large shop, and the wares were a curious mixture of things that were real and things that were not. There were oils, teas, and herbs. It was pleasantly fragrant. There were lots of books, most of them modern. Witchcraft had been a cultural fad right before everything Vampire had consumed the zeitgeist. When the shapeshifters come out, it'll probably be their turn, but if it takes too long, maybe it'll be zombies next. Maybe then this shop would see itself discovering a greater affinity for Voodoo. Or maybe not. There are a few "Voodoo" shops in New Orleans that cater mostly to tourists. This wasn't that. This place was the real deal, even if they did have plenty of things stocked that were clearly intended for purchase only by the uninitiated.

"Is that a real Lassa mask?" I asked excitedly as Louis led me past a display.

"It is," he told me, pausing so that I could get a better look at the very large carving. They're traditionally made with ebony, as this one was, rather than being painted black. It's one really obvious way to tell their age and authenticity.

"I work for Splendide Auctions," I shared, throwing him a bone. He knew the name. It only took him another beat to connect the dots.

"Ah," was all he said. It occurred to me then that while my information had provided some answers regarding the breadth of my supernatural knowledge, I'd just given him about a dozen additional questions about me personally. Oh well. Just as I knew that, I also knew he wasn't going to ask.

With Splendide fresh in my mind, I discovered that the back room of the magic shop reminded me very much of my lab. At first, I wasn't exactly sure why. It was full of color; soft reds, purples, golds, and greens, and a rich earthy smell. I was used to sterile metal and ceramic, the scent of chemical compounds, and the hum of the air conditioning. It was the way in which the room was set up, I realized. The center workbench may have been covered with faded velvet, but that's what it was; a workspace. The shelves and tables which lined the room housed bells, books, and candles, not microscopes, forceps, and scales. It was very similar. It was only the tools that differed.

Through a beaded curtain came the woman who was surely Octavia Fant. She was wearing a loose-fitting yellow dress, in stark contrast to Louis's dark attire. Like him, she was older; in her sixties most likely. She was striking. Her hair was full white and smoothed back in a tight bun. She had a strong jaw and lively eyes. The jewelry she wore was plentiful, but not so much that she jangled. It clearly spoke of her eminence within this sphere. She too, was a great vessel of magical power, even more so than her friend. I greeted her with a deep nod.

"Ms. Fant? I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

"It is nice to meet you, Sookie. You may call me Octavia."

I brushed tentatively at her mind as she returned my nod, and then she met my eyes with a look of mingled surprise and recognition. I felt my own eyes widen. The corner of her mouth twitched. She could feel my presence there, but she let me proceed. Arguably, this defeats the purpose of mind-reading as a screening tool. If someone knows you're listening, they can just not think their evil thoughts. Jason used to think about football games when he had something he didn't want me to know.

Octavia's mind was fascinating; not her thoughts, which at the moment consisted of patient acceptance, but the feel of it. I've heard people say that someone has a mind like a razor, but this was really that. Sharp, smooth, and precise.

We had definitely come to the right place.

"I should go get Eric," I said, pulling back.

"The affected vampire...?" Octavia inquired.

"Is Eric Northman. He's in the car," I told her, in case she hadn't overheard us earlier.

Louis walked me to the door, and I walked down to the car. Eric got out as I approached. He stepped gingerly onto the sidewalk. He had the pad and held it out to me.

_What surprised you?_

I explained about Octavia sensing me as I read her mind.

"They seem good-intentioned. I think they will be able to help you, truly."

I tried as hard as I could to feel that assurance, maybe even project it, in case he could see it in our connection. He had to be actively monitoring my feelings. He let his hand slide down to the small of my back and I walked a step ahead of him, again in a way that would appear to any onlookers as though he were guiding me, and not the other way around. I was quick to take the step up into the store when we reached it so he would anticipate the same.

Louis locked and bolted the door behind us after we entered. It didn't feel ominous, but secure. Introductions were made when the four of us were together. Eric wrote out his words of greeting and his gratitude that they had agreed to help him. I'd never have known just how reluctant he was about the whole thing if I hadn't seen it for myself.

I discovered I was holding his hand only when Octavia asked me to step away. Who'd done that, me or him?

Then the process of magical discovery began, as Octavia asked questions of Eric, which he evidently answered as best he could with the pad. Sometimes while he was writing, she would chant at him or hum, lifting her hands around his head. I recognized some of what she was saying as Latin. I don't speak Latin, at least not beyond the common phrases, but it's got a pretty distinctive sound to it. Some of what she muttered was in no language I could discern. Maybe Eric could. He must have picked up quite a few in his long unlife. I have to remember to ask him about all this stuff.

About twenty minutes in, it became clear to Louis and I that our assistance would not be required. At his suggestion, we stepped out front to talk wards. Eric gestured me away dismissively when I asked him if he minded if I left. He must have gained some confidence in Octavia's ability to help him too.

I reiterated to Louis what I'd already discussed with Octavia regarding my concerns about supes trying to harm my family members, and he took a few notes and made suggestions. I felt like I was planning a room remodel or something. He was almost as thorough as the Shurtliffs had been planning the renovations at Gran's.

"Octavia has some family in a town called Monroe, do you know it?" he asked.

"Oh sure, "I agreed quickly. "It's about, oh, maybe forty-five minutes from where my brother and Gran live."

"Perhaps I can persuade her for a visit this weekend, and we can do the warding then."

I was surprised he was offering his own services. I was about to graciously accept his offer when two things happened simultaneously. A low, masculine groan emanated from the back room, just as a sharp rapping came from the front door. My head turned back to the sound of Eric's voice with a smile that faded instantly when I switched my attention toward the door. There was a man peering through the window at us. No, it wasn't a man at all. It was a vampire, and he'd seen us. Louis looked to me and the knocking came again. It had gone quiet in the back room.

"Waldo," Louis said softly, recognizing the creature at the door. "He must have seen the lights on."

"He can't know Eric is here," I whispered.

"Go," he told me, already moving toward the door.

I slipped into the back room. Eric was standing rigid and Octavia was hastily snuffing out a bundle of smoldering herbs into a small dish.

"It's someone named Waldo," I whispered, coming straight to Eric's side.

"We must leave immediately." I got a shock of pleasure I hadn't expected hearing Eric's voice again, hoarse as it was from lack of use, but as I looked up and saw the way he wasn't precisely meeting my eyes, I knew he wasn't completely "healed."

"He's seen me," I said.

"Come this way," Octavia said, turning toward the beaded curtain. I grabbed Eric's hand and lead him to a short hallway. There was a bathroom on the right, a cramped office on the left, and a steel door straight ahead that she quickly levered open to reveal an alleyway.

"Stay in the back, until he leaves," Eric ordered me, and then said to Octavia, "If you are called upon to explain her presence, tell him Sookie is an apprentice." We both nodded and Eric stepped back further into the alleyway, trailing his hand along the wall. I looked at Octavia who was already closing the door. She'd been warned of our need for absolute discretion, and I could only pray that she wouldn't suddenly decide we were asking for too much.

"Please," I breathed, breaking all protocol and grasping her hand as she turned around. She gave me a level nod as she pulled away and moved back to the workroom, and towards the front, calling loudly over her shoulder, "You straighten up back here."

I heard Octavia explain, when asked, that the woman he'd seen was a trainee here. I let out a breath as he seemed to accept that and moved on to conduct his own business.

I pushed into Louis's mind again to get a better look at the vampire and immediately wished I hadn't. Vampires are attractive as a general rule. I suppose if you're choosing someone to walk beside you for a potential eternity, looks are one factor to be considered. Eric was practically the embodiment of male physical perfection. Pam too, was absolutely lovely. This Waldo was definitely neither. His skin and hair were so light that, coupled with the reddish tinge to his eyes, I thought he must have been an albino while he was alive. Maybe his maker had an interest in the unusual, rather than the beautiful. Beyond that though, his skin was so wrinkled that it looked like it was about to slough off. Though sickly pale, it had a greenish tinge to it. He looked like he would be slimy, almost like some kind of man-shaped sea creature or something. What had happened to him?

It was a tense fifteen minutes that I spent there in the back, listening as Waldo made the purchase of certain herbs and minerals that told me he was more than just a dabbler. Could he be the Queen's royal magician? Did she have such a thing, and was that what it was called? My one consolation was that Louis, at least, was as eager to see him leave as I was.

I couldn't feel Eric in the alleyway and that was troubling to say the least. When it became clear that Waldo's presence was nothing outside of normal business, I'd tried to look for Eric's mind in the space around the back door, but I couldn't find him. I hoped he'd only moved to a more secure hiding place, but how would I even know if something had happened to him? I was afraid to turn my attention too far from what was happening in the shop, just in case. I felt helpless and stupid standing here.

Octavia returned, finally, and I could hear Louis letting this Waldo out the front door.

"It is late," Octavia observed.

"We have some distance to travel back to where we are staying," I said. "Can we come tomorrow, a bit after dark?"

"Yes," she agreed. "I have seen enough of the enchantment he is suffering. It is complex, but I will take the day to consult my books. Tomorrow night I will finish the work of undoing the spell."

I could feel her confidence as she said this, and I wanted desperately to feel relieved.

"I'll go out through the back," I said, and she showed me the way.

I walked in the direction that Eric had gone, stepping over and around all manner of refuse and discarded junk that littered the narrow passageway. He'd probably had an irritating time of it coming this way. I pushed my mind forwards and didn't feel him. When I reached the mouth of the alley without finding him, I turned back and walked the other way. Not good.

I was comforted when I reached the other end and felt the vampire mind for all of three seconds before I turned the corner and practically collided with the vampire Waldo.

This was an OSM if ever there was one.

"Hello, little witch," he said, leaning in to take my scent. I said nothing, but immediately backed away a couple of steps.

"Ah ah ah, do not run off now. I understand you are still in training with the master and mistress of the establishment, but I think you'll serve my purposes."

Oh why couldn't we have just said I was another patron like him and left it at that?

"I'm just beginning," I fumbled, taking another step backwards. He followed with a step of his own.

"I can sense you are a natural talent," the hideous vampire said. I had to tamp down on the urge to reach out and test my theory about the slime-factor of his skin. It was the dim lamplight or his natural glow, but he did seem to be glistening, like he was covered in mucous. Frogman!

"I'm not interested." I tried to sound very assertive as I said it.

"But I am. Look at me, pretty. That's it," he said, as I met his eyes. He tried to push his glamour on me. "Come with me now girl. You'll help me work my spell and then perhaps we'll entertain other pleasures before the dawn."

I shuddered involuntarily, and I felt him press harder against my mind, stepping closer. When it became clear to him that his influence was not working on me, he hissed menacingly.

"What are you? What spell lets you resist me?"

Suddenly I realized where Eric had gone, right before I heard him land hard barely a step behind me. I hadn't even bothered to search upwards. Stupid, stupid stupid. Well, not that stupid, I guess. It's not like "flying" is at the top of the list for common hiding places. Eric reached out a possessive arm and yanked me back against him so abruptly that I nearly stumbled. I'd never been so grateful.

"She is mine," he said firmly.

"Northman," Waldo said with surprise.

"Waldo," Eric replied coolly. He shifted me behind him.

"I didn't know you were in the city. We have heard some curious rumors about Area Five of late."

"You'll be hearing no more," said Eric, and he took one smooth step towards Waldo, and slid his hands up the other vampire's chest. Before either Waldo or I could react, Eric seized his head, and twisted.

I gasped and clasped a hand over my mouth and both heard and saw the two thuds as the head and body of the vampire formerly known as Waldo tumbled to the ground.

"What have you done?" I hissed.

"I have killed him," Eric answered, turning to me. "We must go now."

You think?

I stood there, gobsmacked, until Eric drew nearer to me. I backed up from him, my eyes fixed on the rapidly crumbling corpse.

"Sookie, we must go. Come and walk in front of me."

He was tugging at my arm, but I wasn't moving.

"You just... killed him. Just like that. He didn't even..."

Suddenly Eric was in my face, glaring at me with unfocused eyes.

"What should I have done instead? Let him take you? And stumble blindly to ground for the day, to awake and explain to the Fairy Prince that I left his granddaughter to be spoiled by the likes of that wretch? Or perhaps let him run back to inform his Queen that I am sneaking around in her territory unannounced? You saw the state of him – and he was once _her favorite_. What do you think would happen to me if I had let him go?"

He dropped my hand with disgust and stepped away from me. I heard the truth of Eric's words even as I failed to derive any comfort from them. Somehow I'd imagined that the first thing he would say to me once he had his voice back, would have been "Thank you for taking care of me," but instead I found myself being scolded for balking at his incessant pragmatism. Pragmatism? Murder! His _incessant murder._

I moved again towards the mouth of the alley, stepping over the soon-to-be pile of dust, and waited for Eric as we reached the sidewalk. I took his arm and led him to the car and we drove in silence back to our hotel.

I left him as soon as we were through the door and got in the shower. When I finished I waited until I could no longer hear his low murmuring and then we switched places and I changed into my pajamas and shut out the lights. He wouldn't notice. A moment later I got up again to make sure the window shutters were locked. They were. I got back in the far end of the bed and scrunched up under the blankets. I couldn't pretend to be asleep, but I hoped he'd get the hint. Another false hope.

When he slid up behind me, he was naked. His body was warm from the shower and I smelled the shampoo from the tiny bottles that Eloise had left for us in the bathroom. When he wrapped an arm around my waist I'd had enough. I couldn't wriggle any farther away from him without falling off the bed so instead I turned on my back and prodded his chest back.

"Stop it. I don't feel like snuggling."

The only light in the room came the tiny digital display on the television box across the room, and that was not enough to let me see his features at all, so I don't know what expression was on his face.

"You are still upset about Waldo." Imagine that. A whole hour later and it's still affecting me.

"Yes," I gritted out. "I don't understand how you can just do that... just do that and treat it like nothing."

"I forget how sheltered you are," he sighed, leaning back.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't treat it like nothing, _first of all_," he said. "But it had to be done. I do not hear you expounding on the many alternatives I could have taken in that moment. He was waiting there for you. I could not reveal myself before without alerting him to my presence. Had he simply let you go when you refused to help him, he would have lived. He didn't, so he died. He will not be missed."

"And that makes it okay? He will not be missed, so just kill him?"

"Sookie, you have had my blood. Even if he did not recognize the scent of _me_ on you, he would have recognized another vampire. He tried to glamour you anyway. He would have fed on you _anyway_. These things alone make his life forfeit where other vampires are concerned. It may have been he caught my scent in the shop and was trying to draw me out, or perhaps he truly did not know I was there. Either way, it was his own poor choices that led to his death."

I breathed a heavy sigh. He was so matter-of-fact about it.

"You have much knowledge. It is easy to forget that you lack experience in the world," he went on, sounding almost regretful.

"These are not experiences I want to have."

"Yes. Perhaps you will realize that in exposing you to one that I shielded you from another which you would have enjoyed even less."

"Oh that's very noble," I said with bitter sarcasm. "I notice you are now omitting the fact that you being outed to the Queen was a valid alternative."

"You saw him, did you not? His shriveled skin? Do you know the cause of that?"

"How should I?"

"He was only recently released from punishment. For _years_ he was forced to remain submerged in a tank of sea water. The damage done to his body was permanent. He was forced to remain in New Orleans and in the Queen's service because he would not have been accepted elsewhere. All this, and as I said, he was once counted as her favored companion."

"What did he do?"

"It is between he and the Queen. There are only rumors, and this serves her well, as it leaves the rest of us to only imagine or invent. I cannot begin to guess what would merit such a punishment that would not have merited the true death. I am not merely whistling Dixie when I say that being found by her, here, in this manner and in this state, was not a valid alternative." He spoke quickly and deliberately, enunciating every word, with his accent prominent. It wasn't always, but it seemed to become so when he was agitated. His use of the colloquialism stuck out like a sore thumb.

"You're not using that quite right."

"Not using what?"

"Whistling Dixie. It's lighthearted; joking or kidding, as opposed to straight being disingenuous. And you probably wouldn't precede it with 'merely'. It's not so formal."

"I am not _bullshitting_ you then, how about that?"

"I understand."

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes. Doesn't mean I like it."

"Do you believe I like it?"

"Don't you?" I scoffed. "Killing, and fighting, and _justice_, and _vengeance_. Whatever you're calling it, they all seem to be your cup of tea."

"I do enjoy a good fight, and I am pleased by just outcomes, whether or not they include death, but I am not an indiscriminate killer, Sookie. I have known such vampires. Put in bed with a fairy, I assure you, they would be guilty of far worse than attempting to cuddle."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It is simply true."

We were quiet for long minutes and some of the tension gradually eased out of the room.

"What did Pam have to say?" I asked. "I know you talked to her while I was in the bathroom. Was she glad to hear from you?"

"Yes. She asked when I was coming home."

"Did the plan work?"

"Not as desired. The witches anticipated the ambush. Our people were able to give chase, but they captured only one. Pam does not believe he is the one who has stepped up as their leader. Colonel Flood has volunteered two of his trackers to try to find their new warren, but will not join in the assault on this coven unless his people are targeted first."

"That's unfortunate."

"I would do no differently in his place."

"Is everything else okay up there? Everyone safe?"

"Everyone is safe. The coven has begun to make good on their threats against my businesses. Evidently there is a plumbing problem at Fangtasia. Two of the waitresses were not informed the club would not open tonight and discovered it. Something about a burst water main."

"At least you have a valid excuse for not opening the club tonight," I offered.

"Yes," he agreed acidly. "In addition to being blinded and exiled from my territory, I can return home to thousands of dollars in water damage. At least there is that."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

I yawned then, and realized I was too tired to keep fighting with Eric. I gave in to the part of me that had wanted to forget his vampiric ways and let him carry on with the earlier snuggling. I wrapped my arm across his chest and curled into him.

"Do you mind?" I asked. "I've never slept with someone before."

He pulled his arm from behind his head and drew it behind my back.

"It is a bit late to try to claim that kind of innocence with me, lover."

"Not that," I said, glad to hear his joking response; glad that our disagreements could be mutually set aside, at least for the day. "Just sleeping. I've never slept beside someone before. I couldn't, you know?" I tapped my head, hoping he'd feel my movement. "I'd never be able to tune it out."

"Ah," he said. He shifted then, pulling me more tightly to him as he leaned up and brushed his hand down my thigh, catching it and hoisting my leg over his own. I wriggled a bit as he lay back down. I was practically wrapped around him. It was very comfortable.

"I will be very still, when you wake. It will not be like a sleeping human," he warned me.

"Will I disturb you? When I move away?"

"No. I will be dead." Comforting thought. I pushed it away and tried to just enjoy being curled against his cool body. I yawned again. "Sleep, my Sookie," he murmured, brushing the top of my head with a kiss. I did.


	24. Vampire Touch

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. Many thanks to FiniteAnarchy, the beta for this story. I think she is quite busy lately, so I doubly appreciate her feedback and you should too! Keep an eye out for the next update of her story **Dead Memories.**

A couple of things...

Sophie-Anne was not Waldo's maker. He was simply a once-favored companion of QSA's. That is presumably why he was given the saltwater treatment rather than killed outright for his unknown offense (for better or for worse). It's safe to assume his absence will be noted at some point - but his fate would not have been instantly realized.

Thanks so much to those of you who take time to review, put this story on alert, or make it a favorite. In particular, thank you to anonymous reviewers, who I don't have the opportunity to respond to personally. I also wanted to say that I appreciate the constructive criticism, however you choose to leave it.

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Chapter 24 – Vampire Touch

Since I'd fallen asleep only minutes before dawn, it was no surprise that I slept until almost two in the afternoon. I was shocked to find myself still wrapped snugly around Eric's chilly corpse in the pitch dark room, however. I gave a start before remembering where I was, and with whom. Even after realizing it, I still found myself scrambling out of the bed. I fumbled with the lamp on the nearest table until I found the switch. All the while, Eric lay there, stiff as a board and undisturbed. His face was smooth and peaceful. He was right; it wasn't the calm of sleep I saw there. The stillness was too profound. Dead indeed. I let him be and made my way to the bathroom.

I was disconcerted to find that despite the late hour, I didn't have any missed calls. Surely Jason would have called when he got up this morning? Or Gran?

I called my brother first, reaching only his voicemail. I left a message demanding that he call me back at once. I put a little Adele Stackhouse into my voice as I did so, hoping that if he was avoiding me for some reason, it would sway him in the opposite direction. I tried to tell myself that it was the middle of the workday. In all likelihood, he just hadn't heard his phone ring. They were running one of those big noisy jackhammers. Or he could have left the phone in his truck, in which case he might not call me back until his shift was up. He could have been just still ticked off at me. As the minutes ticked by while I dressed and got ready for the day without hearing from him, a cold sense of dread settled over me.

It only intensified when I talked to Gran, and she told me that she hadn't seen him since yesterday evening. She didn't sound worried, and for her sake, I too tried to sound as though I could also dismiss it as typical Jason behavior. Gran was being discharged tomorrow, and she was pleased about it. I knew that no matter what, I had to go home tonight. If Octavia Fant couldn't get Eric sorted out, we'd have to make alternative plans for him in the coming nights, and he'd just have to cope on his own. Or, maybe I would take him back with me, and he could have an appointment with Octavia when she and Louis came up to Bon Temps this weekend. He might not be pleased about that, but I had my family to get back to.

I tried to take comfort in the fact that, uncomfortable though she may have been there, Gran being at the hospital this week was probably the safest place for her. Whatever was going on, at least she was somewhere separate from it all. Thoughts of Chip Young filtered in. That won't happen to Gran, I told myself sternly. It just can't.

It had been my intention to spend the afternoon with Gladiola and Diantha, but I just didn't feel up to socializing. I did have to do something about food. I checked the mini-refrigerator to discover that it had been stocked with bottled blood. No microwave in the room, though. That might be something to mention on the comment card I'd found tucked in with the complimentary stationery.

I was in the little anteroom that separated a sleeping Eric from the outside world, and had just checked for a third time that the door behind me was securely locked when my phone rang. Finally, Jason. I fished it out of my pocket and answered right away.

"Hello?"

"Miss Stackhouse?" Okay, not Jason.

"Ms. Fant?" I asked, with uncertainty.

"Yes. I'm calling about out meeting tonight. The shop will still be open to the public just after sunset. For the Sheriff's discretion, perhaps you would consider coming to my home?"

"I hadn't thought of that," I said.

"Yes," she agreed.

I was already letting myself back into the room with Eric so I could take down her address and the directions to her home.

"I'll need to run it by him, but it does seem like a wiser course," I said. "May I call you when he wakes, to confirm?"

"That will be fine. It will likely take you some extra time to travel, regardless. We are prone to flooding."

"Flooding?" I asked.

"From the storm."

"The storm?"

"It's coming down in buckets," she said, and unless I was mistaken, she sounded pleased about that.

"I haven't been outside," I said. "It's uh, very insulated where we are staying."

"Naturally," came Octavia's voice. "I'll speak to you at dusk."

We said our goodbyes and I made my way out to the vestibule once again. Pulling the heavy outer door open, I was immediately pelted in the face with a spray of rain. As I made my dash to the car, I greatly regretted spending any time at all trying to fix up my hair. Already drenched, I didn't bother waiting in the line at the Burger King drive through, at least twelve cars long. I went inside and was quickly served a chicken sandwich and a little salad. I felt like it had been a few days since I'd eaten a vegetable.

It was barely half an hour before I was back at the hotel, and Eric was just fine. He said I couldn't wake him, but it still felt odd flipping on the lights and television on. I crept into the bathroom and toweled my hair dry, then I set my sneakers on top of the radiator to dry them off. I left the light in the bathroom on, leaving the door open a crack so I could see enough to make it back to the bed. I figured the extra sleep couldn't hurt and rainstorms seem to have something of a soporific power all their own. Now that I knew to listen for it, I could hear the faint sound of the water beating against the shuttered windows.

As I eased in alongside Eric, I imagined I felt him stirring. "Eric?" I asked, creeping closer. Nothing. I snugged up beside him, trying to reclaim the comfortable position I'd fallen asleep in the night before. I felt a little brazen as I hitched my leg up back over his, but he'd put it there himself last night, so I figured he wouldn't mind.

Sometime later I awoke breathless and alarmed. Eric's arms were wrapped around me, squeezing me so tight that I could barely draw breath.

"Eric," I eeked out, "can't breathe."

His arms instantly loosened, and I was grateful. He still cradled me more gently as I drew in a few deep breaths. I glanced at the clock. I don't think he should have been awake yet.

"Good um, evening," I said to him.

"It's raining," he murmured. Nothing wrong with his hearing. His voice sounded far away.

"All afternoon," I agreed. I was whispering.

"The sun hasn't set," he told me.

"Soon," I assured him. He shifted his arms then, running a hand down my back, across my sweater and down to my hip, across my denim-clad thigh. He, of course, was still naked. I felt my head lift slightly on his chest as he drew in a breath, smelling and tasting the air.

"Where have you been today?"

"Just to get some food. Are you properly awake? Because Octavia called, and she wants..."

My voice was cut off as he lifted me effortlessly on top of him, my knees parting across his hips. The hand that had been around my shoulder slid across my back and found my collar, my neck, and then my jaw as he pulled me to him in a kiss. Whatever I'd been about to tell him was forgotten as I pressed against his cool body. He made a low noise of pleasure as his hips bucked up against me. Yeah. Eric was definitely _awake_.

I knew enough about vampires to know that this was probably more of an imperative for him, the natural urge to sate his hungers. I was about to extricate myself as gently as possible, not wishing to merely be a Ms. _Right-Now_, when he broke our kiss with another moan.

"Mmm, my Sookie. So warm." He sounded almost wondering. Then he was nuzzling at my neck, seeming to delight in just the feel of me, and my half-hearted resolve was gone with my sweater. Maybe he doesn't wake up like this very often either.

I think he felt my lust. The way he kissed and nipped my neck made me shiver all over and suddenly his hands were at my back, deftly unfastening my bra. I suppose any man worth his salt learns to do that blind. Any man who likes women, anyway. I fumbled at the button on my jeans, managing to get it free before he pulled me down toward him again, my breasts pressing against his chest. I felt my nipples tighten with the combination of contact with his cold skin and my arousal as his hand cupped my butt. Suddenly he flipped me on to my back and together we wriggled me out of my jeans and underwear.

He moved against me, sliding his long body against mine, and it was like being caressed with his whole self. He kept his head bowed, kissing across my breasts, my chest. Last time, Eric had seemed so focused on watching me, on me watching him. It wasn't an option available to us now. Instead he was feeling me. I did my best to respond in the same way, my hands moving quickly across his arms and shoulders, down his back and up his sides. He fingertips traced down my chest and across my belly. Grasping my hip he shifted me slightly and then trace down and up my thigh, nudging my legs farther apart as he did so. I could hardly see in the dim room, but I found myself shutting my own eyes anyway, wanting to be exactly where he was.

For a fleeting moment I wished I could feel everything from him that he must be feeling in me; acceptance, desire, anticipation, pleasure. And perhaps there would be darker things; esurience, thirst, instinct. I let myself free in the enveloping silence of his mind and simply felt his body. We murmured our mutual admiration, sounding our enjoyment, both loving the sensation of his hard length sliding through the slickness between my legs. When I was trembling, already so near that golden edge, he pushed inside and I fell immediately, crying out.

My heels dug in to the backs of his legs and I clenched my fingers in his hair, holding him to my breast. I felt him bite and draw deeply in a way that kept me shuddering beneath him. He began to move faster. His energy was palpable and when he finally joined me on the far side of bliss, it was with a deep, throaty groan before he let his weight fall against me.

His stillness seemed so sudden, but once again it felt wonderful to have him all around me. I let my fingers brush across his neck and his cheek as he calmed down until finally he rolled away from me, though he clutched me to him, even as he did so. I loved that he was like this, afterward; wanting to stay close. I dozed for several moments, feeling peaceful for...probably for the first time all week, since the last time we'd done this.

"You're wonderful for distraction," I told him drowsily, and instantly wished that I'd said nothing to break the dreamlike afterglow of the wonderful sex. He was nuzzling at my breast, which felt tender but was soothed by his cool tongue. I realized he was sealing the wounds he'd left. Reality crept back in as he finished tending to me. Gran. Hadley. Jason. Fairies in Bon Temps. Eric's spell. Witches in Shreveport. One less vampire in New Orleans. I felt the panic rise up in me at the same time Eric pulled me close to him, hushing me before I could really get started.

Eric agreed when I explained that meeting Octavia at her home rather than at the magic shop during business hours was a good idea. I was glad he seemed to be more willing to accept her help.

"What else is going through that head of yours?" he asked. I glanced over at the clock. We weren't really on borrowed time anymore. We needed to be up and going. The sooner we got Eric sorted, the sooner we could go home.

"I'm worried about my family," I told him, extricating myself and heading for the bathroom. "Call Pam. I'll call Octavia." I closed the door behind me and phoned the witch, letting her know we'd be on our way soon.

I had to dress in the same clothes I'd just peeled off, but that was fine. I didn't bother packing up the room. We'd be returning here one way or another tonight. Eric expressed a desire to glamour Eloise, the innkeeper, before we left for home. It was something he couldn't do without his sight.

"We will remove your credit card receipt as well," he said. I immediately wanted to object but he continued, "I will leave cash for the room."

"I wish you didn't have to," I frowned. "She was so happy to have her first vampire guest. Couldn't you just... I don't know. Make her remember a different couple? People who don't look like us?"

He had no response to that beyond a shrug, and then he simply stood near the bed, ready to go. He had missed the sticker tags on his new shirt and jeans so I removed them before we left. The storm was still raging, but somehow that made the drive less nerve-wracking tonight as I was forced to focus only on what was in front of me.

Octavia's neighborhood was not a nice one. Most of New Orleans isn't like the French Quarter and the Garden District; all historic and well maintained with wrought-iron charm. Most of the city's population consists of people who just manage to get by. Actually, most of the entire state of Louisiana is that way. It was the way I was raised, too.

I had the impression that as the senior witch in these parts, Octavia owned the Genuine Magic Shop. Even if that were correct, I suppose a magic shop, when practitioners are so few on the ground, is not a boon industry.

Like the other houses on her street, Octavia's was tiny; even smaller than mine, I thought. She hadn't been kidding about the flooding, either. Water ran down the roads in rivulets almost as high as the curbs, pooling at intersections with nowhere to drain. Even in the downpour, there were a few people outside, both walking around or huddled on their porches. These were cramped quarters, and I supposed the rain didn't stop some people from needing a reprieve from the confines of indoor spaces. I could never live in a place like this. I did my best to ignore the mental cacophony while I tried to navigate.

I parked across the road and one house up from Octavia. She was inside alone, and I was grateful that Eric was willing to come in with me right away, rather than force me to make multiple trips back to the car. She greeted and invited us inside. The door opened immediately into the living room, which looked straight through to the kitchen. The delicious smell of whatever she'd had for dinner was thick in the air. There was a dining table between the two rooms, separating the space. That was where she had set up her magical accoutrement, at least for the purposes of tending to Eric.

The various knickknacks and objets d'art that adorned her home were all similarly themed. I wondered if she even knew what all of them were, as I spotted several trinkets that were clearly supernatural in origin. Brenda would have a field day in here. When we'd first spoken over the phone I'd guessed that Octavia was some kind of voodooienne, and that was very clearly a component of her general interest. If I'm being honest, I was a little surprised that there wasn't a live chicken clucking around the place, just waiting to have its head severed for some sort of ritual. That would probably get messy. Maybe she keeps the cockerel out back.

It was with that thought fresh in my mind that she offered me a sweet tea. Because whatever else Octavia Fant may be, she was also a Southern woman welcoming guests into her home. I accepted with a courteous smile.

Eric was hovering close to me in the unfamiliar space. We were standing next to the table and I watched him reaching out tentatively around him, getting his bearings. Suddenly he jolted away from me with a sharp hiss. I turned abruptly to see that his fangs were out and he had his hand clenched at his chest. My eyes darted around and I realized what had happened. I glanced at the table and spotted a silver knife alongside several other tools for the spell work. He must have brushed it without meaning to.

I tried to press my hand over Eric's chest to soothe him, but that was to no avail. He jerked away from me again, though I was patient with him and he did eventually let me take his hand. Whatever mark the silver had made was already healed. I guess his type-Sookie dinner had sat well with him. And here I'd been worrying that we should have stopped somewhere for a synthetic.

"Let's get on with it," he said harshly.

"I'll just finish setting up," Octavia said. I was grateful she chose to ignore his tone.

"Where is Louis tonight?" I asked, attempting small talk as a means to clear the air.

"Home," Octavia answered, scooping up the silver knife and moving it out of the way to a kitchen counter.

"Not at the magic shop?"

"No. We thought it best that neither of us be there in case they come looking for that Waldo."

Oh.

"He was going to..." I began, but she interrupted.

"I'm sure it's not my concern. The loss of his business isn't going to keep food off anyone's table. Besides, some of the girls don't like him. They say he is 'creepy,'" she quoted, not bothering to hide her disgust. "He sure wasn't pretty but he's hardly the ugliest thing they'll come across if they continue in the craft."

I thought briefly of Mr. Hob before mentally conceding her point.

"I'm not pleased that had to be done in my alley," Octavia continued, adopting a scolding tone. "But the rain should take care of that. And if they come asking, well, no one who knows is there to answer."

"Thank goodness for the rain then," I said weakly. We hadn't even considered what would happen to Louis and Octavia if the remains of one of the Queen's vampires were found outside the shop. At least I hadn't thought of that. Had Eric? It certainly seemed the vampire thing to do, disregarding the troubles they left for the humans in their wakes.

"Thank _me_ for the rain," she continued, sounding satisfied.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really," she confirmed, allowing herself a smile. "Came on quite suddenly, this storm. Weathermen were all predicting clear skies this morning."

I didn't bother to conceal how impressed I was as I murmured, "Wow."

Octavia, dressed tonight in a white buttoned shirt and a skirt of riotous color, rolled up her sleeves, giving me a nod in acknowledgment. There may have been a smidgen of theatricality in the gesture as she clapped her hands and declared it was time to get to work, but I figured she was more than entitled. Eric, who'd been silent throughout our brief conversation, was seized by the arms and shifted into place. I retreated back a few steps, giving them room.

The witch did not explain what she was doing as she worked, but I vaguely recognized the beginnings of her sanctifying the space. She lit bundles of fragrant herbs and went through her paces, reciting words in a foreign language that had no meaning to me. At one point she anointed Eric with something, smearing some kind of paste across his eyelids and then she began to chant in earnest.

Her voice was rich and sonorous as it filled the air and all at once, the magic was all around us. It was as if the air was super charged with electricity, like the house had just been struck by lightning. I found myself smoothing my hand across my head to be certain my hair wasn't standing on end. There was a low buzzing sound that seemed to grow sharper as she spoke certain words, the atmosphere humming along with her in harmony. Shivers ran through me as I felt the power shift inwards, towards the two of them. Suddenly I could see it, blurring the space surrounding Eric. His glow was brighter than it had ever been. Octavia began to shift her arms, molding the currents around him.

I hadn't even realized that her chanting had ceased. The steady melodic thrum of the magic had persisted, until she commanded in with orotund clarity, "See, vampire. See all around you," and even I could feel it working. I could practically see the energy in the air coruscating around Eric for a single moment and Octavia punctuated the entire process with a final triumphant order for him to, "See!"

He flinched, blinked, and then his eyes shot right to mine. I couldn't help but smile. He remained still and impassive as Octavia worked, much more quickly, to dismiss the powers she had summoned to her aid. With a final dash of her foot, she broke a circle of salt around first herself and then around Eric which I hadn't noticed she had laid. For another moment he was still, and then, he bowed to her. Though she responded with only an imperious nod, I could hear her pleasure at her success bubbling in her brain. She was far more jovial inside than she was showing. Coming to herself a bit more, she shot me a look, and I merely beamed at her until finally she cracked a smile.

We had not discussed the subject of payment for this little procedure, and she was probably due a bonus for conjuring the evidence-obscuring thunderstorm. I wasn't sure how it worked, but if the payment rendered was measured by gratitude, he really ought to be emptying his wallet. Her phone rang then, and my attention was drawn to the old-style telephone hanging on the wall in her kitchen, with its long, much-stretched cord raveled around itself. I smiled. Gran has the same setup.

"Pardon me," Octavia excused, and I took the opportunity to quietly remind Eric that he should give her money. He nodded and took a handful of bills from his wallet and left them on top of a dish on the table that very much resembled an offering plate, even before it was adorned with the short stack of hundreds. I rolled my eyes. Who walks around with that much cash on them, let alone in a neighborhood like this? Eric, apparently. He was like the five-hundred pound gorilla in the old joke. What does a thousand year old Viking vampire do? _Anything he wants to_.

"So, back to 20/20?" I asked him. He gave me a blank look. "Your vision, it's completely better?"

"Yes," he said, eyes darting around. "Perhaps even slightly improved."

"It's probably really tricky," I observed. "Undoing magic from a creature who is...essentially magic. Just imagine if she'd pulled the wrong string, hm?" I chuckled lightly to myself. It wasn't really funny of course, not at all actually, but a combination of my relief and his expression spurred me on. Suddenly he looked stricken; horrified and a little ill. It was such a strange thing to see on his usually stoic face that I broke out into full-fledged laughter for a moment. Just a moment, though.

"Sorry," I told him. "I'm just happy you're well. We should probably get going as soon as she's off the phone."

"I am off the phone," Octavia interrupted. "And the two of you need to get going now." All the pleasure she'd had with her own magical accomplishment had evaporated and her face was once again stern and perhaps worried.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"There are two vampires at the shop inquiring after Waldo. I need to get there."

"What do they know?" Eric asked. His voice was not panicked, but rather back to its hard authority.

"Only that he intended to arrive."

"Then you will tell him that he did, and that he departed."

"Yes," Octavia agreed. "That is all I know."

She and Eric shared a long look and I wondered if he would attempt to glamour her into forgetting what else she knew, but he did not. Whatever had been communicated or assured silently between them seemed to satisfy both.

Eric turned away quickly and seized me by the arm. "Come Sookie, we need to get out of the city."

He let me pull away from him long enough for me to face Octavia for myself. I took her hand in both of mine and thanked her sincerely for all of her help. "Please tell Louis as well, and I'll call tomorrow about the wards."

She nodded at me, managing to get out a somewhat flustered, "You're welcome, child," before Eric interrupted both of us.

"Sookie," he said firmly, and I turned to follow him out the door.

I shoved my keys into Eric's hand as we quickly crossed the street to my car. He took them without question and was very quick making adjustments to the seat and the mirrors. Even in an unfamiliar vehicle, his reactions and response times would be better than mine. We splashed through the narrow streets until we made it back to the highway, moving at speeds that would have made me feel unsafe even outside of the weather.

Once we reached the more open road, he was on the phone with Pam again. Their conversation was brief and once they hung up, there was only silence and the intermittent swish of the windshield wipers.

"It will be fine," he told me. "They won't know, and the witches won't tell them."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me, or himself.

At the guest house, Eric sent me to check the room and pack while he tended to glamouring Eloise and removing the evidence of our stay. I worked quickly, double and triple checking that we'd left nothing behind. Apart from a few items in the bathroom, there was little to collect. I had the bag loaded into the car before he was done. He emerged from the office and took the room keys, insisting on doing a final check of his own. We left them in a little drop-box before departing.

"She will wake tomorrow to find that her vampire guests checked out in the night and left their payment in cash."

"Good," I agreed.

He drove on the journey home. He had calls to make though he kept them as brief as guarded as possible, despite the fact that I wasn't really listening. Eric had hit the ground running. No more relying on the human. That was fine. I had my own problems. I just wish I had any clue how I was going to deal with them. I called my brother and there was still no answer. I called Tray and asked him if he'd meet me in the morning. He said he would.

"Where are you staying tonight?" I asked Eric. We'd hardly spoken to each other at all since getting in the car. "Can you go home?"

"Pam has not been able to check my house. She is still moving around quite a bit, though since the ambush, the witches are far more cautious in approaching her. I will be fine. I will stay with another vampire, or I will go to ground. It is clear at this point that they are not tracking me, or else they would have shown up at your house, or in New Orleans."

"Right," I agreed.

"You do not have proper accommodation at your home, and there is no sense further endangering you, if they should track me by more conventional means."

"A closet in a warded home isn't a better option than the ground?" He was looking at me. "Eyes on the road, mister," I snapped.

"You are feeling many different things," he observed, turning back to the highway.

"Sure am."

"Explain."

I rolled my eyes, but then I figured I might as well. "You just said you would rather sleep in the dirt than at my house. That hurts my feelings."

"Because I would not endanger you, you are angry with me?"

"You already _have_ endangered me, first of all. These people have seen me with you twice now. Second, that's my decision to make, not yours. Thirdly, I'm not just some emergency vampire hider, to be ignored now you don't need me. I expect you to keep me in the loop until these guys are banished from the city. You don't want to stay with me anymore, that's fine, but you at least owe me that."

"You care for me," he stated after a long moment.

"Duh."

I didn't have anything else to add to my little rant, and he shut up too. After we made our pit stop for gas, I tried to let myself get a little sleep. I wasn't very tired, but it was peaceful in the car, with his quiet. I was awake again as we got to Shreveport, and I watched the familiar streets roll past without the warm feeling that usually accompanies a homecoming.

As expected, we'd made excellent time. He still had a couple of hours before the dawn, and it was clear he intended to make use of them, now that he was back in his full faculties. When he parked in my driveway and got out, I simply came around the car and took my keys from him. I wasn't sure what to say in parting.

"I'm glad you're well again. Good luck with... whatever you're going to do. Please keep me posted."

"You will have Tray tomorrow?"

"I will," I agreed.

"I must go."

"Go on then," I nodded.

He closed the distance between us then, and I let my arms wrap around him as he enveloped me.

"Be safe," he told the top of my head.

"You too," I said, pulling away.

He nudged me in the direction of the house, wishing to see me inside before he took his leave. I went, giving him a little wave and watching him take off into the sky before I closed the door.

"Thank god you're back."

I screamed, hurling my suitcase forward towards the sound of the voice and dropping into a crouch.

"Ow. Fuck! What? Sookie! It's me! It's Hadley!"

I fumbled for the light, blinked in the sudden brightness, then looked down to find my cousin scrambling to her feet from beneath my traveling bag. She seemed to be wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my pajama pants.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" I didn't bother to conceal the fact that I was furious.

"Houston...Sookie, I don't know what is going on."

"Houst..." I trailed off with an exasperated sigh. "Hadley why were you in Houston? Why didn't you tell anyone you were leaving?"

"Because I can't handle this! Gran's house almost burns down and then some guy shows up and you kill him because he's a fairy, and we're fairies too? And I can't say anything to Jason or Gran..."

I knew where she was going.

"Did you tell Camille? Your girlfriend? Hadley what did you tell her?" I asked frantically.

"She..." my cousin choked out. "She wouldn't see me."

Great. Now she was crying.

"She slammed the door in my face. She threatened to call the police if I didn't leave."

I strode past her, picking my bag up and lugging it behind me down the hall towards my bedroom. Flipping on that light, I had to temper my anger as I had a little Goldilocks moment. Someone's been sleeping in my bed. I heard her footfalls coming down the hall and I rounded and met her at the door.

"Hadley, I need... five minutes, okay? Just five minutes, and I'll meet you in the kitchen." I had to change my clothes. I had to brush my hair and wash my face. I had to calm down to the point where I wouldn't strangle my cousin.

"Okay," she sniveled. At least she seemed to be trying to get a hold on herself. "Okay. But Sookie?"

"Yes, Hadley?" I gritted out.

"I think they might have got Jason."

I felt the air rush out of me. My legs crumpled beneath me and I stared, unseeing, at the wall until I heard Hadley retreating down the hall. I thought I'd prepared myself for the possibility, but I had been wrong. It was just too much. I spent a long time there on the floor until finally the shock wore off, replaced by questions.

Hadley was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of my hot chocolate. She had a mug and a packet out for me as well, but I ignored it in favor of starting a pot of coffee. My cousin very wisely said nothing until I sat down with her.

"Start at the beginning," I bid her.

She'd gotten a ride into Shreveport from a man she met at the bar in Bon Temps. I didn't bother scolding her about what had happened the last time she'd taken a ride from man she hardly knew. What would be the point? From Shreveport she'd gotten the bus to Houston, and there, like she'd said, Camille refused to see her.

"Why didn't you tell us you were leaving Hadley? People were worried about you."

"I...didn't think..." That was obvious. And it was obvious too, from a look inside her mind, that if Camille had taken her back, she would simply have stayed away.

"Hadley, you _cannot _keep doing this! Either stay here, be here completely, or go away and stay gone. You can't do this to Gran. She can't handle it. Do you understand? Even apart from the heart attack, she's lost so much. This past week... I don't think I have seen her so truly happy in years. You mean the world to her. Do you get that Hadley?" I stared her down. This was not a rhetorical question.

"I get it," she answered, finally. Quietly.

I breathed out another sigh. I know I should have gotten up then, and embraced her, but I didn't. We had some miles to go, Hadley and I.

After that, I got the rest of her story. After Camille's rejection she'd gone back to their local bar to drown her sorrows. She'd run into the corseted home-wrecker again. I chided myself for the thought as I had it. It wasn't this woman's fault that Hadley had a girlfriend when they'd slept together. This time, they'd only talked. I monitored the memories as she recalled them very carefully to be certain that my cousin had not revealed more than she ought to have. Though a little hazy from her alcohol consumption, it didn't seem she had. The woman, Liset, I was finally told, had encouraged her to come back home to Bon Temps. There, see. She wasn't _all_ bad.

"So I got the bus back this morning...yesterday morning, I guess," Hadley said, looking toward the window. The sky was lightening by now. I hoped Eric was safely ensconced somewhere.

"And you came right here?" I asked. How had she gotten inside, anyway? I don't keep a key hidden.

"No, I got a ride to Jason's, only he wasn't there. He... the place was half-trashed, Sookie. Like there'd been a fight. It was open, and his truck was there... his keys were right by the door..."

I sucked in a breath, but she continued. "I...took the keys and his truck and I came here. I thought maybe the fairies got him. I don't know..."

"Where's his truck?" I asked. It certainly wasn't in the driveway. I wouldn't have been scared half to death if I'd had an inkling someone was in the house.

"I didn't want to come right here," she said, sounding nervous. "I was freaked out, you know? So I parked it at the shopping center and went in the stores a bit, to make sure I wasn't being followed. And I uh, bought a hat, and then I walked here."

"And no one followed you?"

She was shaking her head. "I'm sure no one followed me."

"Okay," I said. "Did you get any sleep?"

"A little. Some."

"Good. Go get a shower and find some clothes. Tray's going to be here at dawn. We're going to Bon Temps, and the first thing we're going to do is figure out what happened to Jason."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Tray is a werewolf. We'll start by seeing what he can find."

"Alright. Sookie? Who is Tray?"

"Oh. He's a guard. He works with me at Splendide. He's acting as my, uh, bodyguard. While this stuff is going on. Yours too now, I guess. We'll be safe with him, okay?"

"You have a bodyguard?"

"Yes. Eric's idea. But it's a good one," I finished quickly. "He's a nice guy, Tray."

"Eric's the vampire boyfriend?"

"Er. No. Maybe. Sort of. I wouldn't call him that, but he's...we're... that's my vampire. Yes."

She smirked, but very wisely said nothing as she left to take her shower.


	25. Not Care a Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. Thank you as ever to FiniteAnarchy, the super-speedy, skilled, smart, and savvy beta for this story!

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Chapter 25 – To Not Care a Vampire

"He's here," I said, promptly shoving the rest of the jam-covered toast into my mouth, barely chewing it before I swallowed quickly. I'd been watching at the window. While Hadley showered, displaying her usual degree of consideration for others where the hot water was concerned, I had made us a big breakfast. The serving plate was still half full of eggs and bacon. I was counting on Tray to help finish it off before we left for Bon Temps. For lack of a better expression, I was feeling totally amped up.

I made my way to the front door and swung it open, waving him inside. He came up with his usual newspaper folded under his arm.

"Good Morning!" I said cheerfully.

"G'morning," he blinked. "Have you slept?" he asked skeptically.

"A little, in the car, and I slept all day yesterday. Come in, we have food. My cousin's here."

"She's back?"

"Yeah, only now Jason seems to be gone. We're going over to check it out first thing, you game?"

"Sure," he mumbled.

"Hadley Savoy, Tray Dawson," I introduced, quickly appropriating the serving plate for Tray and sitting a cup of coffee in front of him as they greeted one another.

Tray made an appreciative noise as he dug into his food, stopping after a few bites to properly swallow and ask after Eric.

"Fully restored," I said. "That witch we saw was really good."

"That's good," Tray said, a little grimly.

"Why?" I frowned. "What's been happening here?"

Tray spread his newspaper out on the table so I could see the prominent headline.

_Two Dead in Suspected Arson_

"Arson?" I asked quickly, grabbing up the paper.

"At the Hair of the Dog," Tray said. I gave him a blank look. "Local Were bar," he clarified, with a glance at Hadley. I'd told him that her ex was a Were, and was glad he seemed to remember.

_The bodies of two Shreveport residents were identified Thursday among the charred wreckage of former drinking establishment Hair of the Dog. Firefighters had difficulty entering the smoldering building and the exact causes of death have not yet been determined. _

_Though the investigation is still underway, police have confirmed a suspicion of arson. Reports of area arsons are up this season, causing early speculation that this could be the case of a serial offender._

"_It's too early to draw that kind of conclusion," said Detective Dennis Pettibone._

_Despite its proximity to Centenary College, locals say the pub was not a popular hangout for students, most of whom have vacated the campus for the winter holidays._

_Owner Amanda Whatley, age 36, and Jaime Martinez, 57, were found..._

"Whatley?" I asked weakly.

"Parnell's wife," Tray said flatly.

A somber silence fell across the table, but I could sense Hadley's confusion.

"He works with us," I explained to her. "He's one of our new guys."

"Do they know who did it?" Hadley asked.

"No," said Tray. "Fire is tricky. Things burning, obscures any other scents. It's a good way to cover your tracks."

"You think there's something else going on?" I asked sharply.

"I'm not really in the loop. I guess I'll hear about it if anyone knows something, but I doubt I'll be included before then."

"Do you think it's true about the serial arsonist?" I asked.

"Couldn't say. Might be it's just a coincidence. This," Tray said, tapping his finger against the paper. "Is pretty clearly an attack on the Longtooth Pack. I don't think you have any association with the Weres. At least not in this area," he said, shooting another glance at Hadley.

"But if it were an attack on supes in general, or anyone with supe lineage..." I began.

"You've told me you keep yours close to the vest, and I can see why. Personally, I don't see any connection, but who knows."

"It could be the Were-witches," I offered. "They've attacked the vampires... maybe it's like a blanket attack on all the supes?"

"But how would the Were-witches know about you?" Tray asked. "And if they did know about you, how come they didn't show hide nor hair when searching for Eric the other day?"

"Maybe from Splendide?" I offered. "As far as knowing me. And then Parnell's wife...and Gerald!" I suddenly remembered. "He's one of the vampire guards. Um. He was."

"Gerald's dead?" Tray asked.

"Yeah. Again. Finally. In the fight where Eric got cursed. He got cursed too, and they got him while he was incapacitated."

"Hmm," Tray said.

We came to no firm conclusions. If everything was tied back to these Were-witches, that still didn't explain Wallace the murderous fairy. Fairies get along with Weres, but they don't get along with witches. I suppose exceptions can be made, but fairies can be kind of (sorry Niall) proud and snotty about their magical abilities. They don't like people infringing on their turf. Trying to sort this out into a neat theory was like Cinderella's stepsister trying to get her foot in the glass shoe. We could make it fit, but it didn't really.

Hadley hadn't said much, beyond reminding us that we needed to get down to Bon Temps. We drove her over to Jason's truck, and then she followed us to his house. She'd locked the door when she left, but apart from that, once she pulled up behind us, everything was presumably just as it had been left. Tray got out of the car and breathed in, then walked straight off towards the woods.

"Going to check the perimeter?" I called after him.

"Going to change. I'll do a better job of detecting the scent. That alright with you two?" He glanced back and forth between Hadley and I. I nodded. She looked a little uncertain but agreed as well.

When we opened the house, I could see what she meant about the place being trashed. Jason's not a neat freak, but he doesn't conform to the stereotype of a slovenly bachelor either. There were papers askew, cushions off the couch. The big tip was the half-consumed plate of food left on the coffee table in front of the television. That doesn't happen. I wanted to clean it up immediately, but I wasn't sure if I should touch anything. Hadley was thinking the same.

"Should we call the police?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "They'd probably wonder why you took his truck and left instead of calling this in before, and if a fairy got him, there's nothing the police can do. Let's see what Tray has to say."

I'd propped the screen door in the front open for him. Wolves might have better eyesight than humans, better hearing, and a better sense of smell; stronger jaws, sharper claws, and quicker legs, but they do not have opposable thumbs. Doors would be pretty solid defense against wolves. If nothing else, they would slow them down considerably.

Hadley gave a yelp when Tray walked in, on four legs. He lingered by the door. She'd seen Camille in her wolf form once, but for a variety of reasons our guard was a lot more intimidating to her.

"You okay Had?"

"Yeah. Yeah. He's... huge." She gave a nervous, airy chuckle. "That's something I haven't said in a while."

"What?" I asked, turning.

She was giving me an old-fashioned look. Oh.

"Okay," I said. "I get it. Funny."

Jason's phone started to ring. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was still quite early. I had no idea who could be calling at this hour. I dashed to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hello. I'm looking for Jason?"

"I'm sorry, he's unavailable. May I take a message?" I replied.

"This is his _boss_. I was calling to see if Jason would be in to work today. I guess he's _feeling better_?" He didn't sound pleased.

I struggled to recall the man's name. I'd heard it in enough of Jason's stories. "Is this Mr. Hennessey? This is Sookie, Jason's sister."

"_Ohhh_," he said, his tone warming. "Good morning, Sookie. Er, I guess he's still under the weather if he called you down, huh?"

"I've just arrived," I said, telling the only truth I could. "He _did _call you?"

"Yesterday," Mr. Hennessey confirmed. "Hated to have him call out on such short notice, but he sounded bad. He's down for the count, huh?"

"I don't know that he's going to make it in today," I said. "I'll have him call you when he's able."

"Alright. Well you take care of him then."

"Sure thing."

Hastily, I hung up the phone.

Tray returned not long after looking no worse for...wear.

"There've been women here," Tray offered, less than tactfully. "Recently."

"That's not really surprising or unusual, for Jason."

Tray raised an eyebrow and Hadley agreed.

"He's always been popular," she added.

"Right," I said.

"Well, there's a couple of males too. I can tell your brother; his scent is all through the house. There's a couple that are in the TV room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. There's one that's only in the front of the house. Could be somebody's boyfriend? Husband?"

"I guess it's possible," I frowned. "I think I should call the police."

"Shouldn't we have done that before you lied to his boss?" Hadley asked.

"I didn't actually lie to him."

"You let him think Jason was here and laid up sick."

"Well I think that was for the best, considering."

"It's possible he just went off with someone in a hurry," Tray offered. "I mean if he took time to call in sick to work..."

"That just doesn't feel right," I argued. "Why wouldn't he have locked the house? Why wouldn't he answer his phone?"

"There's no sign of a fight or anything though," Tray said. "There's no blood, and no... uh... You know when people panic or get their back up, there's that surge of adrenaline or testosterone, whatever you want to call it. A change in the body's chemistry. There's none of that. You say the place is trashed, but maybe he just didn't tidy up before he left."

Tray was wholly unconvinced that there was foul play afoot here. I found that annoying.

"Look, you don't know him. He wouldn't just skip work and run out the door. He's carefree, not care_less_."

"I don't know, Sook..." Hadley began.

I turned on her, and I could see that she really liked Tray's idea. She liked it so much that she was rapidly convincing herself of the truth of his claims. That Jason had simply gone off was a much more pleasant way of looking at the situation. It was a view that didn't require her to be worried or concerned anymore, or think about any of the other weird stuff that had been happening of late. My fingers twitched and there it was again, the desire to literally shake some sense into her.

This time it was my phone that interrupted us, with Gran saying that she was all clear for a nine a.m. pickup. We had some time before we had to leave, but not a lot.

"I think we should go to the police," I said.

"I think we should see what Gran says," Hadley argued.

Tray looked at his watch then back at me. "Police report will take a while. We won't make it to Granger on time if you go now."

I sighed.

"Alright. So I guess we'll bring you guys to Shreveport and then I'll come back here to file the report."

"We're not staying here?" Hadley cut in.

"Uh, no?" I said. "You'll stay with me, it's safer."

"This is where Gran wants to stay. We already asked her. And Tray said himself that no weird things have been around here, right?"

Tray shied back as I shot him a death glare, but he still agreed with Hadley.

I let it go, feeling confident that when we got the hospital I could convince Gran to stay with me instead. I was wrong. Gran would not be swayed from her original plan to convalesce at Jason's house, so that's where we returned a couple of hours later. To make matters worse, once we'd gotten her settled in a spare bedroom, she decided to send us to Walmart for groceries, leaving her alone in the house. Her doctor had put her on a restricted diet and almost nothing that Jason had in the cupboard was acceptable. I wanted Hadley to stay, but was forced to cave again when Gran expressed the desire for a little quiet after so many days in the busy hospital room with practically no privacy.

Tray was amused by something as we headed out to the car, and I didn't bother to find out what, reasoning that it was probably nothing I wanted to hear.

I was able to drop off Gran's prescriptions at the pharmacy to be filled while we shopped, so that was helpful. We'd been there forty minutes already when Tray pulled me aside.

"I think we're being shadowed," he said quietly, and gestured behind us at a woman who seemed to be comparing two boxes of granola bars. She was carrying a basket, but it was practically empty.

Hadley leaned in, curious to hear what we were saying.

"Tray says that woman's following us around. Let's go to a different department and see if she turns up..."

Before I could finish what I was saying, Hadley was moving towards the woman in question. Just great. She was about to make a scene.

"Liset?" my cousin asked, and the woman looked up immediately at hearing her name.

"Hadley Savoy? I thought that was you!"

Tray and I exchanged a look and moved to join the two of them.

"Liset, wow. I didn't think I'd see you again. What are you doing here?" my cousin asked.

Why was that name familiar?

"Oh, well. Um. It's really great running into you," she said, smiling. "That's, um, why I'm here. I was hoping to run into you. I just got into town and I needed some groceries..."

"Yeah?" Hadley asked.

"Yeah." The stranger was blushing.

"Hey Had, who's your friend?" I asked.

Hadley was blushing too. "Sorry. Liset, this is my cousin Sookie, and um, Tray. And Sookie, this is Liset. I know her from Houston."

I finally made the connection. This was the corseted home-wrecker that Hadley had cheated on her girlfriend with.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, more for the excuse to shake her hand than because it was an actual pleasure.

_Who is this guy? Another cousin? He doesn't look like Hadley, but this girl doesn't either. She looks like the brother though._

I stiffened, hearing her thoughts. She was picturing Jason. She'd seen him, and not just in passing. She'd seen him well enough to note the family resemblance between he, Hadley, and I.

I glanced at Tray, leaning in to shake her hand. I held my smile in place, but he didn't have the same skill in schooling his features. His eyes darted to me as he pulled back. I reached for his mind, pushing away the thoughts of the other shoppers around us. He knew her scent. She had been at my brother's house.

"I know it's crazy, but after I last saw you and you said you'd broken up with Camille for good, I thought maybe... I just couldn't stop thinking about you. I had to come here and find you. I can't believe my luck running into you like this."

Liar. Bon Temps might be a small town, but this was beyond coincidence. Had she followed us from Jason's house? I strained to keep my focus on Liset's thoughts, wanting to hear more of Jason, but he wasn't on her mind anymore. She was only focused on what she was saying to Hadley, choosing her words carefully, trying to make them sound pleasing. I wanted to tell Tray to grab her and truss her up in the trunk so I could question her. I was almost startled when another shopper jostled me as he tried to squeeze himself and his cart past me.

_Damn women socializing in the middle of the store. People are trying to shop here. And_ I_ have to feel like the rude one. Get out of the way, blondie._

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Sookie?" Hadley asked.

"What?"

"Liset was saying we should go get a drink, do you mind if I meet you at Jason's later on?"

"No!" I blurted out.

Hadley looked startled, but very quickly looked annoyed. Before she could really get her back up, I continued, "Gran's expecting us. We shouldn't..." I almost said we shouldn't leave her alone, but I didn't want this woman to know that Gran was alone if there was a chance she wasn't aware of it already. Oh god, what if she was here to deliberately hold us up? What if someone was at Jason's house with Gran right now? "We've got to get home Hadley, right now!"

"Sook?"

"We've got to go," I said again. "Let's get to the checkout." I could feel myself panicking. I grabbed my cousin's arm and started to pull her away, awkwardly maneuvering the cart with one hand. Hadley started to pull away from me and I was eternally grateful when Tray intervened. He pulled her snugly against his side, one arm wrapped around her back and clutching her outer arm. To an onlooker it might have passed for an affectionate gesture, but I knew there was absolutely no give in the steel grip he had on her as he began to march Hadley away from her "friend." With their backs to Liset, she shot him a look of defiance and he shook his head infinitesimally and tightened his hold.

We were out to the car in five minutes, and Tray was securing Hadley in the backseat while I threw the bags into the trunk, hand over fist.

"Behind," Tray said audibly and I swung around to see Liset trotting up to us again.

I turned back and met Tray's eyes, flicking my own toward the trunk and back to him. He looked at me like I was a crazy person.

When she got within a few paces of us Liset seemed to move more cautiously. She was holding out a piece of paper.

"Hey, Hadley?"

Now Hadley was getting back out of the car again. Liset held out her phone number and Hadley took it, and once again the two were back to coy smiles. This girl was extremely determined to be in contact with Hadley. She was already debating following us as we left here, running lines about not wanting to miss this chance for them to connect.

"Hadley, we really have to go," I interrupted, earning my cousin's ire. She decided to put a spin on it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry Liset, Sookie's right. I have to get home to my sick grandmother. She really needs taking care of. She lives alone now, it's just me around lately." Very freaking lately.

"Oh wow, you're so sweet to do that." Gag me.

I slammed the trunk with finality and folded my arms, caring not a feather that they were both now mentally screaming "Bitch," in my general direction. Hadley agreed to call Liset later and as soon as she was back in the car, I launched myself in and bolted us out of the parking lot.

"Sookie, what the hell?" came Hadley's petulant voice from the backseat.

"She knows where Jason is. She was trying to lure you away with her!"

"What?"

I glanced over at Tray, who'd certainly earned some stripes handling that entire episode so smoothly.

"She's seen Jason," I said to Hadley, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. "Seen him since he's been missing. She knows where he is, where he's being kept."

Hadley looked frantically between me and Tray wanting more explanation.

"She was at the house," Tray offered.

"She could have been looking for me! Jason's in the phone book!"

"She _was_ looking for you. Hadley, who is she?"

"She's just a woman I met at the bar."

"Had you ever talked to her before that first night?"

"Maybe? I don't know, she was a regular, I guess."

I made her recall once again how Liset had approached her and seduced her. It seemed clear to me that for whatever reason, this woman had deliberately targeted Hadley. I just didn't know why.

I practically flew out of the car when we pulled up to Jason's to find Gran peacefully napping in the bedroom that had been mine up until age seven. Coming back to the kitchen I sagged into a chair and let the relief that she was well wash over me. Tray settled down beside me, and we left Hadley to put away the mountain of groceries on the counter.

"I think I'm missing a big part of the picture here," he said. "And I'm not sure how well I can do my job if I don't have all the facts."

"Just ask Sookie, she's got all the facts," Hadley said venomously as she continued to shove things into cabinets. "Never question her, she knows everything. Even if you don't want her to."

"Hadley, give it a rest."

"Why? It's true," she shot back.

"Keep your voice down."

"That's right. I don't have to say anything at all, do I?"

She took that moment to look directly at me and think a string of very unpleasant thoughts.

"Thanks Hadley," I said bitterly. "Tell me how you really feel."

"What's going on?" Tray asked bluntly.

"Sookie is a telepath," Hadley announced. My jaw dropped.

"Hadley!" I hissed.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Sookie. He's a werewolf. He can deal."

"That wasn't your secret to tell!"

"Well you weren't exactly subtle about it back there. What were you going to tell him, you just had a _feeling_?"

This was a fair point, but it didn't stop me from being royally ticked off with her.

"Hadley, later on, you and I are going to have words," I said through gritted teeth. "But right now that's not what matters."

"Well what does matter then?" Hadley said.

"What matters is that woman knows where Jason is. We have to figure out how to get her to tell us, and why she took him, and who she's working with. If she was in Houston with you, then she wasn't here kidnapping him, so it stands to reason she's got a partner." I felt myself wind down from my anger - though I would definitely be revisiting it later - and slip into a more thoughtful frame of mind.

"Well that's easy, I'll just call her and meet her somewhere," Hadley answered.

"Okay, and then she snatches you up and I'm left looking for both of you."

"If she were going to be doing the snatching herself, she probably would have done it in Houston, right? I mean I was alone there."

"True," I agreed.

"So, why don't I just invite her over."

"Not with Gran here," I said firmly. "No, we'll... invite her to the farmhouse. We'll say it's so you two can be alone."

"But I shouldn't actually be alone with her, right?"

"No, definitely not."

Tray was a little bemused as we sat there, making our plan. Even with his input, it was not a particularly grand plan, but it was what we had. Lure Liset into the seclusion of Gran's house, then coax her into talking and thinking about Jason and get some answers. Once we had them, we could go from there.

Our plotting was interrupted by Gran's wakening and we had lunch - salad with cottage cheese and slices of grilled chicken. Gran grumbled with good nature about her new diet, hatching schemes of her own. She wondered if she could bargain with her doctor to allow a pass for Sunday Suppers, provided she didn't keep any of the leftovers in the house. The conversation was a nice break from the tension of the morning.

Though we had spent no time dwelling on the subject, Gran knew that Jason was missing in action. As she had done with Hadley, she was determined not to fear the worst. She was willing to believe that he'd gone off early for the holiday weekend. Was there any point to disabusing her of that belief? Isn't that how it works in our family, anyway? Say nothing unless you absolutely must? Actually, I knew from my handy-dandy telepathy that it worked that way in a lot of families.

After lunch Gran insisted on helping us clear up, being thoroughly tired of lying around. It was actually a good thing, because after we had done it all, as well as cleared up the mess that Jason had left, she was ready for another rest.

"I suppose calling the police is definitely out the window at this point," I said resignedly.

"I think it went out when you dug up the roll of duct tape," Hadley smirked.

"And the Benelli," agreed Tray.

"It's not smart to do this without a contingency plan," I said.

"No arguments here," agreed Tray. He'd spent a manly few minutes admiring the collection in my brother's gun cabinet, and been able to help me choose which bullets to load. Just in case.

We figured that Liset might be watching us from Jason's house. I hadn't been able to detect anyone mentally, but my range only goes so far. Tray and I left first, in my car, and parked across in the little road leading back to the deer camp that was almost directly across from Gran's driveway. He stripped off his flannel shirt and folded it neatly, leaving it on my trunk so he could find it again later.

"You sure you're up for this?" I asked.

"Sure," he shrugged. "It's close enough to the full moon that it's not too taxing to shift again today. I might be worn out tomorrow, but I'll be fine for now."

Just hearing him talk about feeling tired had me yawning. Now that we were well into the afternoon, I was beat.

"No rest for the wicked," I murmured.

"Speak for yourself," Tray chuckled.

I left him to change behind the car, my footsteps on the worn gravel not quite dampening out the sickening gloppy sound of his shift. I made my way up Gran's drive and into her house. There were no minds around, and no visible sign that anyone had been to the house since I'd last left it a couple of days ago. I put a pot of coffee on and then busied myself waiting for Hadley's arrival by clearing out the refrigerator. This was killing two birds with one stone, as it needed to be done anyway, since Gran was staying at Jason's. I was investigating something foil-wrapped and past its prime when I heard Jason's truck coming up the driveway.

We didn't want Liset to know that I was here until she actually got in the house, just in case that made her hesitant about coming inside, which was where we wanted her. For that reason, I hadn't turned on any lights or lit the fire, so Hadley and I got started on the latter when she arrived.

"She should be here in fifteen minutes," Hadley said. "Tray is in position?"

I nodded that he was.

Liset arrived almost half an hour later, bumping up the driveway in staid, late-model sedan that screamed, "rental car." It had Texas plates. To my surprise, she parked along the side of the house and came to the kitchen door.

I answered when she knocked, and her smile faltered immediately.

"Hi. Is Hadley around?" I didn't even have to listen to hear the _shit shit shit_ running through her mind. It was right there in her eyes. Liset was dressed warmly, even for winter. She had on a heavy jacket and scarf and a bulky sweater matched with snug black jeans.

"Sure," I smiled warmly. "Come on inside?"

Hadley was sipping a mug of coffee. She looked a bit sleepy too. I watched as my cousin stood and shared an awkward, half-hug with Liset, offering to take her coat. I was frankly startled by her courtesy, though I shouldn't have been. We talked this out at length earlier and determined to play it as nice as possible for as long as possible.

Liset opted to keep her coat, remarking on how chilly it was in the house. It was cool inside, though the reason she wanted to keep it had more to do with the possible need to make a hasty exit. She was tense, and trying desperately to keep her calm. Surreptitiously, I crossed behind her and locked the door on my way to pour her a mug. It wouldn't really keep her in if she decided to bolt, but it would delay her.

While she and Hadley made small talk, I settled back to cleaning and tidying, chiming in only occasionally. Liset was flirting again, and I could see it. I'm not a lover of women, but she was very lovely; very alluring. Her laugh, even fake, was tinkling and melodic. She kept the conversation very firmly on her territory, which seemed to be Hadley's life here, her plans for work, her excellent taste in shoes and nail polish. These were not things that would guide this Liset to thinking about Jason.

"Do you have a lot of family in Houston?" I asked.

"No," Liset answered. "We're not from there originally."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"Whistling Creek. It's a tiny town. Kind of like this one."

"That's in Texas?" I asked.

"Yeah, just west of Somerville Lake." I had no idea where that is, but I nodded in acknowledgment.

"Do you have a big family?" Hadley asked. I wanted to pat her on the head. Good girl!

"No," Liset said, and her voice sounded cold for the first time.

_Smaller now. Just Wil and I now. We're all we've got left._

"Ours is pretty small too," I agreed. "It's just our Gran and us, and my brother."

_Brother, my brother. To save him. They'd do it to us. They did it to him._

"Actually my cousin hasn't turned up for a couple of days," Hadley said, her voice sad.

"Oh really?" Liset asked.

_Won't turn up again. All three of you. Where is he?_

Her eyes darted from the clock to the window and she shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable. It was at that point that I realized just how far Liset had been willing to go to "lure" Hadley with her. She had a gun in her pocket, among other things. That explained her reluctance to ditch the jacket.

I shifted behind her, pretending to be busy taking something out of a cabinet, but glancing over my shoulder in attempts to catch Hadley's eye. When I finally did, I made the universal sign for gun: pointer finger extended, thumb cocking the hammer, and then pointed at her frantically. Unfortunately, Hadley must have stared for too long and she had no particular talent for schooling her face. Liset turned around in her chair to look at me and I slammed shut the cabinet ad muttered something about what I would cook for dinner.

"Maybe you two should go in and sit by the fire," I suggested. "It's a lot warmer in there."

"Oh good idea," Hadley said, and rose to stand. Liset was getting up too. I heard the scuffle of feet and Hadley gasped. Liset had moved behind her, one arm around Hadley's neck in a choke hold, the other pressing a pistol to her head.

I froze, lifting my hands in front of me like this was a stickup.

"Don't move," Liset told me. I didn't. "Get into the corner." She jutted her chin in the exact opposite direction of the kitchen sink. The cabinet underneath, the only one wide and deep enough, was where I'd hidden the Benelli. Damn it.

As soon as I'd followed her instructions she withdrew her arm around Hadley and shoved her toward me. My cousin fell into my arms with a sharp little whimper. Liset kept the gun trained on both of us as she inched toward the window. She was expecting company.

"Why are you doing this?" Hadley sobbed.

"It's you or us," Liset said softly.

"Where's Jason?" Hadley asked, but Liset didn't answer. Her eyes were too busy flicking back and forth between us and the window. Hadley was trembling now. I tried to soothe her, and the noise drew Liset's attention back to us. I tried not to focus on the gun, looking at her face instead.

_He'll be here soon. He'll be here soon. He'll be here soon. Soon. Soon. Soon._

That was no help. Hopefully Tray was ready for some action outside.

"Who are you?" I asked her. "Why do you want us? Why did you want Jason?"

"Three for two," she whispered.

"Three for two what?"

"The three of you, for the two of us."

Finally it was there, the flash of Wallace in her mind, amidst all her impatience and pleading for her partner to arrive.

"Liset, who is Wallace?" I asked.

Her hand started to shake, and that was worrying. More worrying, I realized very quickly, was that it wasn't in fear, it was in rage. I didn't want to incite her, but equally, I didn't want her attention on the window. I was counting on Tray to intervene outside, It was her brother she was waiting for. I didn't want him to arrive and even up their numbers. Beside me, Hadley had gone into a kind of shock, her eyes were trained on the gun and she seemed to be trembling right along with Liset's hand.

"Liset, who is Wallace?" I repeated.

"He was our uncle," she spat. "He was all we had left. He was going to save us, and you... and you," she said more venom, shifting her gun from its wavering position between us to be more firmly focused on me. "You _killed_ him."

"It was self-defense," I whispered, pointlessly, because I could see very well that she knew that. She'd had the vision.

When a fairy dies, his spectre normally appears to his next oldest relative, imparting final words before crossing to the Summerlands. It's a bit like a ghost, a departing soul, or so it's been described. This is nothing I have ever witnessed, nor would I want to. Up until a moment ago, I wasn't even sure I would be eligible. Liset was human, or apparently, mostly human. She was like us.

"He was going to kill us," I found myself saying.

"But now we'll have to do that," she answered bitterly.

"Why?"

"In trade."

"To whom?" I asked helplessly.

Three things happened almost simultaneously. A resounding crash battered against the locked back door, the gun fired, and Hadley screamed.

I lunged forward, crashing into Liset, still off balance from the recoil of the shot. I batted at her hands until eventually I heard the gun – at least I hoped it was the gun – clatter to the ground. I yipped and jumped as it landed, as if it would go off. It didn't. I pounced again on Liset trying to knock her down, at the same time kicking out with my feet, trying to knock the gun away.

She was fighting back then, pushing me and scratching me and trying her damnedest to overpower me but I could tell that I was stronger. Once I heard the gun skitter away I was kicking at her feet, pushing her shoulders and her hips, to make her fall. I tried to catch her arms to stop her flailing and then she bit my arm! It was nothing like a vampire bite. It hurt like nothing I'd ever experienced. I couldn't get a proper swing at her, we were too close, but I didn't want to back off either. I forced the heel of my hand up roughly, hitting her in the nose with an uppercut.

Horrified, I watched her head bob back and then I managed to kick her in the side of the knee and she went over sideways dragging me with her. I scrambled to pull myself on top of her, pushing her chest down flat with my knee and trying once again to get hold of her arms. She was shrieking like a banshee and I could see the blood on the linoleum as she thrashed her head. She spotted the gun and started inching towards it, and because she was nowhere near actually restrained she was wriggling away beneath me.

I balled my fist up and try to beat it against her arms and shoulders but this had little effect. I was yelling for Hadley and the duct tape as finally, finally I managed to grab one of her arms and wrench it behind her back. I had to kneel on it to keep it still and still she flopped about like a fish on a line.

"Stop it god damn it!" I yelled in frustration, suddenly aware that the crashing against the door was still going on.

I turned to look behind me wondering where the hell Hadley was with the freaking restraints. She was still struggling to her feet, sliding her body upright along the cabinet. She was clutching her arm and I could see the dark red stain spreading out beneath her hand. Her face was white as a sheet.


	26. Slap Them On the Wrist With a Vampire

A/N: Hi folks! Thank you for bearing with me for two missed updates. I'm really sorry about that. FiniteAnarchy is an amazingly encouraging and patient person, in case you weren't aware of that. Thanks also to those of you who sent kind notes asking after me – all's well. It's a busy time of year, and I'll own up to some writer's block, but I think it has passed. Charlaine Harris owns these characters, and I'm so glad she graciously ignores the way we all use them for our own devices.

* * *

In the last chapter...

Gran was released from the hospital and returned to Jason's house. Liset, the woman Hadley cheated _with_, showed up in Bon Temps. Sookie caught Liset thinking of the missing Jason, and Hadley spilled the beans to Tray about Sookie's telepathy.

Hoping to get information about Jason, Hadley and Sookie lured Liset to the empty farmhouse with Tray guarding their backs, waiting outside in his werewolf form.

Realizing the cousins were on to her, Liset pulled a gun on Hadley and Sookie. Startled by a sudden noise outside, Liset fired, hitting Hadley. Sookie and Liset fought, and Sookie managed to knock the gun away and wrestled Liset to the ground.

* * *

Chapter 26 – Slap Them On the Wrist with a Vampire

I couldn't think. I beat against Liset with all my might in time with the pounding on the door. I didn't even realize when it stopped. I just kept hitting her back and shoulders with my flagging strength. I felt the weariness in my arms and the pain from where she had scratched and bit me. My muscles were about to give out. She just had to stop moving. I just needed to tie her hands. I needed that, so I could check on Hadley and Tray.

When she finally went still I slumped forward over her. I'm sure the pose would have looked pretty tantalizing to any men in the vicinity, at least until they took in our appearances. Liset panted. I could feel the dull pain in her mind, but most of all, I felt her defeat. I stumbled to my feet, not taking a lot of care with her body as I hoisted myself up. She groaned, and made like she was going to turn over. I let my foot fall heavy against her upper back. I didn't think I'd really done any permanent damage but I _had_ beaten her into submission. That was some kind of accomplishment, I guess. I had a lot of other things to deal with right at that moment.

"Don't even think about moving," I said, surprised at how low and dangerous my voice sounded. Liset went limp in compliance and I managed to move back a pace and flung open the kitchen drawer to find the duct tape. She didn't fight me as I folded her arms behind her and bound her wrists. I wound a loop around her ankles for good measure. I didn't want her kicking me again. I hefted her up on to her side, taking a better look at her. She was a lot less lovely.

The noise of an engine outside cut off. There was a van parked in the driveway, its back doors facing the house. I guess that's what Tray had been trying to warn us about as he hurled himself against the backdoor. He must have heard it coming all the way down the road.

My eyes went out of focus as I pushed my mind outward, and I caught my own reflection in the kitchen window. I looked a lot less lovely too. There were two men in the van; this woman's brother, and my own. Liset had called the brother Wil, and he was peering through one of the dark tinted windows at the huge wolf on the porch. Jason was blindfolded, bound, and madder than a wet cat. I found his mental state reassuring.

Hadley shifted behind me.

Right. Hadley.

I never thought I'd ever be so grateful to see a deep and bloody gash. It was hideous. It looked like the flesh had been torn off her arm, and it bled copiously as I pulled her shirt away, but the bullet hadn't hit anything vital. Hadley could move her fingers. She could make a fist. She'd have one hell of a scar, but she'd be alright. We would have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible, but I did my best with the first-aid. I found gauze in the bathroom cabinet, and a fresh towel from the linen closet. I wrapped one, and then the other, and then I wrapped around her bicep with the tape. I got her seated, with her elbow up on the counter, and all this took me maybe four minutes.

"You okay?" I asked my cousin, looking her right in the eyes.

"I'll be okay," she said. She was pale, and quiet, but her voice was steady. She even managed a little nod.

"This is too much," I said as I turned away. "I'm going to call the police now."

"No!" shrieked Liset from across the kitchen, and she started struggling again.

I stomped over to her, ready to kick, but she settled down as I towered over her.

"We've got your brother," she said. "Just let me go, and we'll give him back."

"Why did you take him?"

"To trade!"

"To trade for _what_," I gritted out.

"Our lives."

"Why in the hell would you need to trade _my_ brother for _your_ life?"

"Because you're like us! They want to kill half-breeds. They want to teach the fairies how they shouldn't mix with humans, and when they come for us, we would give them _you_ instead!"

I clenched my teeth and swallowed. My anger had no beginning and no end, but I shoved it aside because I needed my head clear. I needed answers.

"_Who_ wants to kill half-breeds?"

"The water fae. The new prince." I shuddered involuntarily. "There's going to be war. You know about...?" she trailed off, and I knew that what she was basically asking.

"Niall said there was a new prince," I said quietly.

"You know Prince Niall?" Liset asked.

I stared at her. She was truly unaware of our family connection. Then how did she find us? Was it the blood? The scent? I was about to ask, when Hadley helpfully supplied, "He's our great grandfather," in a breathy voice that still managed to sound haughty.

I felt my eyes roll up into my head.

Liset's face showed her shock, but mentally that was followed by great disappointment. We would have been better bargaining chips than she had ever dreamed of. She was eying the gun that I'd kicked across the floor, and I scooped it up and placed it on the counter, well out of her reach.

"How did you find us?" I asked Liset.

Suddenly she was back to angry and willful and defiantly silent, but that didn't stop her thinking about it, and that was good enough for me.

Of all the Supe bars, in all the towns, in all the world, Hadley had walked into hers. She'd simply been recognized for what she was by another of her, of _our_, kind. Liset told her Uncle Wallace, and they'd hatched this plan. She'd seduced my cousin, making sure they were caught. She'd been the one to plant the idea that Hadley return home to her family. All they had to do was follow. They'd been sure there were more of us. That's what Wallace had meant, about finding three.

I took the opportunity to glance out the window. Tray had moved himself behind a box filled with cleaning supplies for a modicum of cover. Wil was still watching the house and the wolf intently, and was filled with uncertainty. He'd been waiting for a sign from Liset, and it hadn't come. We were at some kind of standoff. How long would it be until he just drove off again with Jason?

"What's your brother waiting for?" I tried instead. "What's the signal?"

She didn't answer, but I could see that she was just supposed to go to the window.

"How long will he wait?" I asked.

"He won't leave me here. He'll kill you all first," she spat.

"That'll lower our trade-in value," I muttered.

I had some decisions to make, quickly.

"Hadley," I said, without turning to face her. I wasn't going to take my eyes off Liset again. She felt she had a fighting chance, and she was going to take it if she could. There was nothing but hatred and determination in her now. "Go in the bedroom, and stay there no matter what, okay? And try to keep your arm up."

She moved slowly, but she moved. I heard the door close behind her. It was quiet in the kitchen, until I heard three sharp yips coming from outside. I could hear Tray moving around, bumping his shoulders into the washing machine and I darted to the backdoor, flipped the lock and threw it open, calling for Tray.

I was frozen, horrified by the sight of my brother being pushed from the van. His eyes were covered with a rag. There was tape on his mouth, and his arms and legs were bound in rope. He had no way to catch himself as he fell face first to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Send out Liset and we'll leave your brother," the man's voice cried out. I could hear Tray snarling to my right, and then once again, everything happened way too fast.

The gun fired three times at the porch, and I heard the booming shots punctuated by the metallic ping as the bullets hit the sink or the washer or the dryer. Suddenly Tray was charging, bolting over the porch rail in a single bound. I could barely appreciate what a magnificent leap it had been before I heard the gun fire _again. _I lost track of the action in the driveway as I was pushed hard from behind and tumbled down to my knees. I felt my hands rip against the wood floor as I caught myself and turned in time to see Liset lunging at me.

Her jacket was off now. I guess she'd shrugged out of it, and her bindings. I cursed myself for not making sure she was better secured. It's not like I have a whole lot of experience tying someone up. I should have taken some notes on my field trip to Eric's warehouse. You just never know when you're going to have to take someone hostage. God! Snap out of it, Sookie!

I grappled at Liset's knees, knocking her back, right on her ass, and twisted away from her feet as they shot out at me. She had the gun again, but as she pointed it at me, I could see she wasn't sure in her grip. Her hand shook, just as it did inside. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't accustomed to guns. She didn't fire. What I wanted more than anything in the world was just to turn and run away.

I couldn't let myself focus on the sounds behind me, and I was too afraid to look. Liset had the gun and all the power as she got back to her feet. She saw what was happening on the driveway. I felt sure I was about to die. I was about to close my eyes in acceptance when she jumped towards me, and we both went rolling off the stairs.

I felt her go limp over me right after I heard the final gunshot, and I waited for the pain. She wanted to hurt me. She wanted to watch me suffer. She got to her feet then and I looked up, seeing my blood smeared across her chest. It turned out it was true what they said; at the end, you feel nothing.

There was still sound coming from all around me, and I thought that should be fading. It took longer than it ought to have for me to realize that I wasn't actually dying. A few seconds later when it clicked that I was still breathing, quite heavily, the pain in all of my extremities flooded back and I rolled to my side to see Liset lying there. She was obeying, finally. She was absolutely still. I wanted to vomit.

Tray had moved away from his own kill, now busy tending to his wounds. He paused as I drew my weak body from the ground and he fixed me with that deep, canine stare. His muzzle was bloody, and his fur was damp and dark in places. He matched the rest of our surroundings. I wasn't the first to break. He snapped at the air once and then resumed tending to his leg and his paws.

I was bending to check on Jason when I became aware of another presence nearby. I sensed him just before I heard Tray's warning sound, low and rumbling. Niall was striding towards us from the edge of the woods. Another fairy stood back, not leaving the cover of the trees.

I gave in to the childish impulse I had to run to him for comfort, and he enveloped me in his arms and held me for long moments until my sobbing subsided. Niall stroked my hair and my cheeks.

"Tell me what has happened here," he finally admonished.

"They had guns, and she got shot, and Tray... got the other."

I knew this wasn't the explanation he wanted but it was what I could give him at that moment. The werewolf remained at a distance, but he was on his massive feet now, and his attention was on the fairy prince.

Without removing his arms from me, Niall led me into the house. Jason wasn't moving. He was unconscious. I think he had been since he was pushed out of the van. He would keep, for another few minutes.

In the kitchen, I was able to explain to Niall that his follower had hoped to trade us to his enemy to spare the lives of his own human relatives. Wallace had never known our connection to Niall, which my great grandfather found reassuring. There had been such an effort made; first by Fintan, and then by himself, to keep us concealed. Neither of them had been able to account for the random happenstance of someone stumbling across Hadley several hundred miles away. The brother and sister hadn't abandoned their plan after Wallace died. If anything, that just spurred them on; convinced them that the threat was real.

Niall took this news somberly. "I have known my people fear the events to come, but I did not believe anyone would take such measures," he began, and then paused before continuing. "Breandan and his followers dislike humans for the wrong reasons, but perhaps they are not wrong in the belief that it would be better if we had nothing to do with them."

"What does that mean?" I asked him.

"If Wallace had not been so fond of these humans, this would not have happened."

I wanted to argue that it wasn't Wallace's obvious love for these humans that caused this, but his extreme paranoia coupled with... I stopped myself from even trying to define his state of mind in the terms of human psychology. He wasn't human. I realized almost at the same moment that Niall's anger at the situation didn't stem from what Wallace had done, or tried to do, but simply that he had done it to _us_, Niall's own relatives.

Hadley was standing at the door to the kitchen, looking as pale as she had when I sent her away. Niall regarded her carefully for a moment before gesturing to a chair at the table. Did she realize now that her entire interaction with Liset had been a setup? She hadn't been forced to cheat on Camille, but it was certainly entrapment. I knew that she loved her ex-girlfriend, and I also knew, as did Hadley, that there was no hope of reconciling that relationship. I didn't think I wanted to be around her once she worked it all out. She'd be full of "mad" with nowhere to point it.

"We have to take Hadley to the hospital," I said, watching her.

"Will the human authorities inquire as to the nature and the cause of her injuries?"

"Probably. We should figure out what we're going to say to them."

"That will not be necessary," Niall said briskly, already moving towards Hadley. He unwrapped the bandages from her arm and began to murmur something in the language of the fae. Hadley twinged and gasped, murmuring about the warmth in her arm. When he withdrew, her wound looked as it might after a couple of weeks of healing. The skin was still pink and raw, but she no longer required immediate medical attention.

I heard Hadley's breath catch as she examined the wound, touching her fingers to it in disbelief and astonishment. Fairy magic is very different to the magic of witches. It's not like reciting spells and lining up ingredients. It's much more fluid. It comes so naturally, and it's both far more subtle and more graceful. Octavia Fant had been majestic in her sphere, but she was nothing to a fairy.

"We have a great deal to attend to, here," said Niall, returning his attention to me. "Who is the werewolf?" He listened as I explained very briefly. I felt compelled to note that Tray was hired by Eric. "He was not very effective," my great grandfather said, now lifting my arms to inspect my injuries.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. I wasn't, but I knew I would be. "If it wasn't for Tray, they would have got us. He kept the brother busy. They had guns."

"Yes," Niall acknowledged gravely. "I know that they are dangerous. Your bodies are so fragile." He cupped my cheek as he said this, sounding very sad.

Hadley left the kitchen then, to go and clean up. Niall had healed her, but he still barely spoke to her. Once she was gone, there was something I needed to say.

"Great Grandfather? Before, we spoke of Hadley's memories..."

"Have you had a change of heart?"

"It's not that I don't believe she has a right to know things, but I think it would be safer, for her, and for me, and for everyone, if she did not know about you, or really, any of this. And, maybe Jason, too. Oh God! Jason!" I said, jumping up to my feet. Now that my head was clear, I knew I needed to check on him.

I darted right past Niall and outside, surprised to realize that dusk was coming on very quickly. I knelt beside my brother and freed him of his bindings. He'd been hit on the head, and was muzzy when he started to come to. Niall followed me, and it wasn't very long before Hadley joined us.

"Sook?" Jason asked blearily.

"Hi Jason," I said softly.

"What the hell happened? There was this girl, and then I woke up later, and..." he was trying to remember, and just as I had a moment before, I wished he wouldn't. He started looking around then and that was not a good idea, considering what else was on the ground. Quickly, I pulled him to his feet and over to Niall, and our cousin. He moved unsteadily, but he let himself be led.

"Who's this guy?" Jason mumbled.

"Jason, this is Niall Brigant."

Jason held out his hand as if to shake, and Niall peered at it curiously before taking it.

"Jason," the fairy said, as if her were sounding out the name. "I wish to speak with you. And Hadley, I wish to speak with you, as well."

He led them away, calling their attention back when their eyes wandered. I watched as he spoke to them, not hearing what was said. I didn't start to worry until they started to move towards Jason's truck. She handed him the keys and neither of them looked up, nor answered when I called out, "Hey!"

Niall caught me before I could reach them.

"They are waking from a dream with thoughts ephemeral, evaporating, and soon they will be forgotten for good. Leave them be. If you are around them, it will only cause them to remember."

"I have to stay away from my family?" I asked incredulously.

"Only for a time; days, weeks," Niall said vaguely. "Now, we must do something about the rest of this mess, unless the werewolf wishes to consume his kill." I understood that he meant to sound magnanimous, but I sure couldn't help my reaction.

"No!" I screeched. The thought was sickening. I know that Weres are savage creatures. They hunt and kill and fight, but they don't eat... that would be like cannibalism. I looked over at Tray again, who chuffed and bowed his head, backing away. I don't know a whole lot about the language of animals, but that seemed like a very clear "No way," to me. I could tell Niall was surprised by my reaction, but he seemed to take it in stride, and I could practically hear him dismissing my strange behavior as an odd human quirk.

Niall embraced me again and urged me to return to Shreveport.

"What? But what about all this?" I gestured, looked, caught the gore in the corner of my eye and turned away again.

"Please, allow me to help, great granddaughter. If I had been here, this would not have been necessary."

"It would have been good if you'd somehow arrived sooner," I agreed. "How did you know to come, anyway?"

I don't recall if he answered me, or how he'd said goodbye, or if he'd said when I'd see him again. Before I realized it, I was halfway down the driveway, trudging back to my car. Tray was right beside me, and I let my hand fall and run across his fur. We startled a buck about a hundred yards down the trail leading to the deer camp as we came on the car. I let myself in and unlocked the door for Tray, who finally changed back. I folded my arms against the steering wheel and leaned forward, but the images which flashed when I shut my eyes for a moment were nothing I wanted to see.

Tray got in beside me, and since his clothes had remained clean and folded for the whole afternoon, he didn't look too bad, except for being half asleep.

"You okay to drive?" he asked.

"I'll get us back to Shreveport," I answered.

I turned on the car and the lights and buckled myself in, wincing as I reached back for the seat belt. I needed a hot bath and a soft bed, and an Advil or four.

It was hard to know to what extent Tray was aware of the details that had transpired. He didn't seem particularly keen to discuss anything that had happened, and I didn't particularly blame him. We rode in silence, and I focused on driving. I didn't have my shields up, but I wasn't listening to him. He might as well have been NPR, just noise in the background.

We reached my house and got out. There was no one around, not even my near neighbors. Maybe they'd gone out for the evening.

"So you won't be needing me tomorrow," Tray said.

"I don't think so," I shook my head. "I think that was the end of it. Thank you, Tray. I don't know how I can repay you."

"It was the job I was hired for," he shrugged.

"I think we both know you went above and beyond."

He gave me a hard stare. He'd killed a man today. I might have killed a woman. She was dead, and I wasn't, and it was a near thing. I felt the last of my composure slipping away.

"I'll see you Monday?" I asked.

"I'm on second shift," he replied.

"Thank you," I said again. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, so he would know I really meant it. He pulled away quickly. He wasn't my friend. I was just work to him. I could read his mind, and I was mixed up with demons, and fairies, and vampires. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more in that instant than to leave my presence, and not see me again until he absolutely had to.

"You're welcome," he said stiffly. "Go on inside now."

I nodded, and let myself into the house. I made it all the way into the shower before I cried, and I didn't stop until I fell asleep.

I got my fondest wish on Saturday; a day of no surprises. It was no surprise that I slept very late. I'd gone to bed with wet hair in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, and it was no surprise when I looked in the mirror and saw an unholy terror staring back at me. My face and arms were bruised, and although I'd scarcely looked at myself last night, I'd seen enough to know that nothing had faded, only bloomed.

I spent a long two hours getting ready for absolutely nothing. I had no appetite, but I made coffee. I watched the television, and checked my email. I had a lot of messages about after-Christmas sales, and a note from Louis Chambers.

I called him.

"Miss Stackhouse, I'm glad to hear from you. We're up in Monroe."

"I'm so glad you could come. Is Octavia enjoying the visit with her family?"

"Yes. We are going to watch the children tonight so her niece can go out."

"That sounds lovely." I guess they're not doing the warding today, then.

"We thought we could do the wards on our way back, will you be free tomorrow afternoon?"

"That's just fine. What time will work for you?"

"Shall we say two?"

"Sounds good to me," I agreed.

"Very good, we'll see you then. Enjoy your night."

"Thank you," I said.

It wasn't until after I hung up that I remembered it was New Year's Eve. I debated driving out to Bon Temps, to check on Gran's house, and check on Gran herself, but I'd be going tomorrow, and she had Hadley and Jason. I called, instead. I was pretty grateful when she answered Jason's phone.

"Sookie, how are you honey?"

"I'm alright Gran. I was calling to see how you're feeling."

"Oh, I can't complain. Well I can, but I won't. These two are taking good care of me."

"That's great," I said.

"Jason finally turned up yesterday. I told you he was just off having too much fun."

"I'm glad," I said halfheartedly. "What was he up to?" I wondered what he'd told her, and what he remembered himself.

"He wasn't exactly expounding on the details," my grandmother chuckled. "And thank the Lord for that, I think!"

I tried to laugh along.

"So, is your gentleman friend taking you anywhere special tonight?"

"I don't think so," I said. "I think he has to work. He owns a nightclub, remember?" A nightclub that I was pretty sure would not be open tonight due to an infestation of Were-witches and some serious plumbing problems, but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh yes, I do remember. Are you going to go visit him?"

"It's not really my kind of place," I excused.

"Well, I think you should go. I'm cooking dinner and then Hadley and Jason are going out to Merlotte's Bar. They've both sworn up and down that either one will look after the other." Talk about the blind leading the blind.

"They're leaving you alone on New Year's?" I frowned.

"I'll be in bed long before they wheel out Dick Clark," Gran laughed.

We talked a little more about her health. It was information I had to practically pry out of her with a crowbar, but she seemed to be doing well on the whole. Jason was going to take her to her first doctor's appointment next week, since it was going to be a few more days before the insurance company and the body shop would work things out. I hung up the phone feeling decidedly unneeded.

I wasn't surprised to be alone on New Year's Eve. It certainly wasn't a first-time occurrence. I ordered a pizza and ate ice cream, and watched a marathon of CSI, until just before eleven, when they dropped the ball in New York City. There were so many people. They must be freezing their butts off, waiting out there for hours. All for what? To have some confetti thrown on them? And why would people waste good money on those stupid glasses? It's not like they could wear them again.

I should have gone to bed after that, but I didn't. I certainly shouldn't have stayed up until midnight, in the hope that Eric would magically appear at my door and give me a kiss, because that didn't happen either.

I knew he was busy. I knew he had every reason to not show up. In my heart of hearts I knew that even if he didn't have a slew of other problems to deal with, he probably wouldn't have shown up. But I'd let myself hope he would, which was stupid, stupid, stupid. That could be my resolution: to not be so hopeful. Then I wouldn't ever be disappointed.

I definitely shouldn't have stayed up another hour after that, and that last glass of wine probably wasn't my brightest idea either. Of course I was alone on New Year's Eve. Did I really deserve any better? I'm a liar. I'm a freak. And let's not forget the fact that I'm a murderer. Twice. I was sitting there upset that some homicidal vampire didn't come to give me midnight smooches? Depressed. Pathetic. Happy New Year.

I was still nursing my rare hangover and a big bottle of water when I got to Gran's the next day. I wasn't entirely sure what I would find.

Whoever cleaned the kitchen and the yard had done an impeccable job. I didn't believe for an instant that Niall himself had tended to the two corpses and disposed of their rental van. I felt my heart go wild when I entered the house, remembering. I struggled to banish those thoughts along with the scent of ammonia as I pushed open a couple of windows. It was warmer than it had been recently. I kept my jacket on inside, and was comfortable enough.

With the glaring exception of Louis's tattoos, when the witches arrived, they looked for all the world like a retired couple on a weekend getaway. He wore chinos and a collared shirt, and she a pretty blouse with a sweater and a pair of corduroy trousers. I met them outside. They were only a few minutes late.

"Hi there," I waved, making the effort to be pleasant. It wasn't coming natural today, but that was no fault of theirs. "Did you find it okay?"

"Louis missed the exit," Octavia informed me, and though her voice was stern as ever, she was smiling.

"I was not the one holding the map," he defended, and she huffed. "We found it just fine, once we got turned around. There's not a whole lot around here to get lost in."

"No, there certainly isn't," I agreed.

Octavia was already moving around the house. Louis and I stood there watching her, I curiously, and he admiringly. After her brief survey she rejoined us, and the expression on her face was one of business.

"This is an interesting home," she said. "Old."

"Yes," I agreed. "Our family has been here for a hundred and fifty years."

"There has been death here," Louis observed.

"Well, probably a few, over the last century and a half," I deflected.

_Recently._

It came from his mind as he looked at me. I wasn't trying to read him. I wondered if he was deliberately projecting. "That too," I admitted softly, and offering nothing else.

I didn't know how they could detect it. Louis could see my aura. Perhaps the bodies had left something similar and residual. We shared another long look as the lingering feeling of the holiday air evaporated like the morning fog.

"Let's get to work," Octavia said with authority. I'm sure she was confident that Louis would fill her in later.

I hadn't made a lot of contacts on my own within the supernatural world. Most of the acquaintances I had were via Mr. Cataliades, or through work, and in either case, I revealed very little about myself. I was both nervous and excited at the prospect of trusting these people with a bit of knowledge of me. They weren't really peers, and they lived too far away to become friends exactly, but it was kind of a thrill to have met people on my own, with whom I could be somewhat open. We didn't fully understand each other, but we were operating on a kind of mutual trust. It felt good to have that, and I let it cheer me up a little.

I watched as they worked, although there wasn't much to see. I could feel it when the various wards were set in place. I didn't know which did what; but it was in the air. It took them close to an hour, and then they followed me to Jason's and started the whole process over again.

I didn't go to the door. I had planned to say, if anyone emerged, that these were clients from work, and that Louis had expressed an interest in Jason's pond, which he kept stocked with fish. No one came out though. Gran got up to go to the bathroom once, but she didn't notice us out here. Jason and Hadley were both dead to the world. I wondered if Gran had made them get up this morning and take her to church.

When the work was finally done, I pressed an envelope into Louis's hands which contained their fee, and what I hoped was an appropriate tip. I made them both a formal bow.

"Thank you both, so much, for everything you've done this week."

They inclined their heads in response, as if the gesture had been choreographed.

"There've been no further problems in New Orleans, I trust?" Anybody else come asking about that vamp Eric killed in your back alley?

"Thankfully no," Octavia answered. "We've heard no more from the vampires."

"That's a relief," I said.

"Yes," she answered dully. "It is."

I shifted my weight and toed some of the gravel on the driveway.

"Your vampire is well? His troubles with the rogue coven here...?" Octavia asked.

"I don't believe that's been resolved," I told them. "In fact, there's some suspicion that they've been targeting the local Werewolves as well."

"That is unfortunate, and dangerous."

I couldn't do anything but agree with them.

"Perhaps you will call on us again, if there is a need," Octavia said.

"Thank you," I repeated. "I will pass that along, as well."

We said our goodbyes then, and as we started up our cars I looked to the house, wondering if Gran would come to the window to investigate the noise. She didn't. I almost called her on the way home to inform her that I'd been there, but then I would have to tell my ridiculous lie to explain it, so I let it go.

I spent the remainder of the evening not thinking about Eric, and mentally preparing myself to go back to work the following day.

I arrived before Brenda, and spent the morning checking and recalibrating all the equipment which had not been turned on for a week. I didn't get a chance to talk to Holly at all, as she was on the phone every time I went upstairs that day. Brenda and I had lunch together, and she spent almost the entire hour showing off pictures of her vacation to one of the Caribbean islands. I suppose if you're actually there, sunsets and white sand beaches do not get old, but after a dozen pictures it can get kind of boring. I still made all of the appropriate noises as she showed them off. My heart just wasn't in it.

As we walked back to the building it occurred to me that my disdain was probably rooted in jealousy. She hadn't even asked how I'd spent _my_ vacation. Rationally, I knew that was to the good, but knowing that didn't stop me feeling bothered.

I did finally hear from Eric, in a roundabout way. Bobby Burnham was waiting when we got back from lunch. He was quick to let me know that he had been waiting for at _least_ half an hour.

"I'm sorry you had to wait," I said, not meaning it.

"Yes, well," he answered briskly. "My master was specific about the need to deliver this in person before the close of business." Oh brother, not him too with the 'master' business.

"Well thank you for bringing it, and Happy New Year to you," I said politely.

"Happy New Year," he responded automatically, before leaving.

Brenda had gone straight back to her office when we returned, but Holly remained there to roll her eyes after Bobby left. She was on a call, but she covered the receiver with her hand and mouthed what I thought was, "What's his problem?" I shrugged, because I honestly didn't know.

Once I was safely ensconced downstairs, I opened the envelope. It wasn't one of the fancy ones that I'd previously received. It was just a simple business envelope, sealed, and blank on the front. The note was written on computer paper.

_Sookie,_

_I must speak with you face to face. Be at home before first dark. This is important._

_-E_

The letter was short enough that I wondered why he didn't simply send me a text message. He may not email, but I know he does text. It must be the flunky-certified delivery confirmation. With a little sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed Brenda's extension, letting her know that I'd be leaving right at five. That would get me home in plenty of time to meet Mr. Terse.

"That's fine. I forgot to mention it at lunch, I got so busy showing off the pictures. It's actually tomorrow that I'll need you to stay late. I was just going to come down, you saved me a flight of steps in these new heels."

"Why would I stay late?" I asked. "I hardly have anything lined up yet."

"After dark appraisal." Which means strange vampires in Splendide.

"Brenda, I don't really want to be around any vamps that we don't know."

"Well neither do I," she said hotly, "But these are clients."

"Can't they leave whatever it is overnight?"

"Apparently they're visiting, and may not be here another night."

"We could FedEx?"

"They're coming tomorrow, Sookie. You can hide downstairs if you insist, but I need you on hand in the building."

I expelled the breathy sigh of resignation.

"Perfect," Brenda chirped. "You can be in late tomorrow if you want."

"You're too kind," I replied.

I settled back in to my day which consisted of a small lot of estate jewelry. There were some nice gold pieces. I was happy to see them, actually. One very obnoxious trend lately has been selling gold to wholesalers, who simply melt it down. I hate to hear about people getting rid of antiques for their mere component parts. I was going to be sorry to have to inform the owner that these weren't sapphires in the brooch, but paste stones, but it was still a very fetching piece.

Tray was on duty when I left, and he returned my nod as I passed by him, but he seemed to be avoiding my eyes. There was definitely a serious conversation that needed to be had there, but neither of us was ready for it. Just seeing him reminded me of terrible things, and I imagined it was the same for him. I didn't try to check.

It was barely dark when Eric arrived. I opened the door and as usual he walked right in. He went in the kitchen, because that's where the light was on.

"Blood?" I offered.

"Yours?" he replied.

"Would you like a bottle of synthetic blood, Eric?"

"Yes."

I popped a bottle in the microwave as he sat.

"How are the witches?"

"How are the fairies?" he asked at the same time, and then he gestured for me to go ahead.

"Dead," I said flatly.

"Your cousin?"

"She ran away, and then came back."

"The witches attacked the Long Tooth Pack while we were in New Orleans. Since then, they have been aiding us in hunting them."

"Have you been successful?" I asked.

"Largely."

"But not completely resolved?"

"If not tonight, then tomorrow. There may be two or three still alive. They would be foolish to remain in town."

"Is Pam still sleeping in that shed?"

"No. She went to rest in a different spot after a night of fighting. Several of the Longtooth Weres patrolled the area during the day. They caught two of the coven that way. They have not tried again." I set his bottle in front of him while he was speaking and as soon as he finished, he drank practically the entire thing down in one gulp. I'm not sure what was so fascinating about his bobbing Adam's Apple, but I couldn't help but watch.

"So she is resting with a Were guard now?"

"She is behind a strong door. She is safe from them."

"I'm sure she is. I'm surprised you don't work better with them, considering you share the territory."

"They are filth." They hate us because we try to eat them, so we hate them right back.

"Right. So, what's the big news?"

"The Queen believes the vampires from Arkansas had something to do with the disappearance of Waldo."

"Is that good?"

"It is good that she has no reason to suspect what actually happened."

"But?" I prompted.

"But, this idea makes her inclined to back away from the marriage, and Arkansas wants the marriage. Under the guise of touring the state, they have been making inquiries, and now they are here in Shreveport."

I frowned. "We're having out of town vamps at Splendide tomorrow."

"It would be best if you did not see them," Eric told me.

"I'll be downstairs while they're in the building."

"It would be best if you did not go to work tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes. "I have to go to work."

"Do not speak to any vampires excepting me or Pam."

"That's not a problem," I shrugged. "Was that it then?"

He watched me where I leaned against the counter, in that calculating, narrow-eyed look of his that told me he was trying to decide or discern something.

"Tray served you well?"

"He did indeed."

"He killed the fairies?"

"They were mostly human, but they had guns. He killed one. The other... her gun went off, and she shot herself instead of me."

"The part-fairy was trying to kill you," Eric clarified.

"Yes. She was trying very hard to kill me."

He was in front of me then, smudging his thumb across one of the bruises on my cheekbone. I'd gone to town with the concealer and foundation this morning. I almost never wear this much makeup, but I hadn't wanted to show up for work looking like I'd spent my vacation in The Octagon.

He studied me more closely then, and I let him pull up my sleeves to see my arms. He ran his hands across my scalp, feeling the scratches there, too. I felt like a child being inspected by its mother.

"Do you wish to take blood? To heal your wounds?"

"It's nothing that won't heal in a few days."

He stayed standing in front of me. He was probably about to leave. I'm sure he had something pressing to get to, and that's why he'd come over at the crack of dusk.

"So, I take it you'll be busy entertaining visiting vamps for a while, huh?"

"Yes." He paused. "Why? Will you miss me?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "No Eric. I'm just concerned for your safety. Maybe you should just stay home while they are here instead."

"You will miss me. I will miss you too, my lover."

As soon as he started kissing me, I felt better than I had in days. He pulled me up and sat me on the counter with his hands on either side of me while I flung mine around his neck and shoulders. We both heard the knock on my front door, and we both ignored it. Unfortunately, I hadn't locked it behind Eric.

"Sookieareyouhome? Yourlightsareon. Oh!"

* * *

A/N: The chapter title is taken from a quote by Katharine Hepburn, "Why slap them on the wrist with a feather, when you can belt them over the head with a sledgehammer?" I thought it was fitting.

She's got a lot of good ones. Another favorite, "Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then."


	27. Never Moults a Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. My busy, brainy, and benevolent beta is FiniteAnarchy. May the power chords of a thousand heavy metal guitarists resound in praise of her goodness.

I don't know what to say about the posting schedule, except that I'm sorry I'm having so much trouble sticking to it. This is ready, so I won't make you wait another two days. :/

Thank you for your continued readership, and taking the time to leave reviews, or make the story a favorite, or otherwise put me, or it on alert. All these things make me happy.

The deadline for Random-Fandom's Halloween Monster Mashup contest is coming up soon! Also, there's a holiday fic exchange which people should sign up for. It sounds like fun!

* * *

Chapter 27 – The Wing of Friendship Never Moults a Vampire

I was genuinely happy to see Diantha, but I'd have been even happier to see her in say, an hour.

For a moment, Eric looked genuinely startled. I realized that he'd been as distracted, and therefore surprised by her sudden appearance as I was. I doubted it was very often that he got sneaked up on. I pressed my hands to his chest and he let me push him back a couple of paces, giving me room to hop down from the counter.

"Hey Diantha," I said.

"Youshouldreallylockyourdoor."

"You're right," I agreed. Though woe betide anyone who comes looking for trouble in a house with Eric inside. When did I get so blasé about that sort of thing? I used the excuse of hugging Diantha hello to step away from Eric. Peeking back at him I saw that his demeanor was once again unruffled.

"Good evening, Diantha," he said.

"HiSheriff. Nicetoseeya."

It was obvious that either was waiting politely for the other to excuse themselves. The vaguely expectant glances they were shooting me said it all.

"Excuse us for a moment," Eric finally said.

I realized I should have spoken sooner. Diantha looked to me, because this was _my_ house. I turned to her with an apologetic smile and asked, "Could you please give us a minute to say goodnight?"

I did feel bad asking her to step out of the room. I know the general rule in this type of scenario is "sisters before misters," but as I'd never had a mister to choose before, it gave me a little thrill to be able to do so. Diantha nodded and left. I heard her moving around in the living room, and then the sound of the television.

"Why is the demon sending his niece to you?"

I cocked my head at him. "I'm not sure. Would you like to wait, while I go find out?"

"No. I can't stay," he said, though I couldn't help but notice that he wasn't exactly making the motions to sprint out the door. "I just wanted to let you know that there would be strangers in town, since it may concern you."

"Well, now I know. Thank you." I frowned, reaching for something else to say to him. "I saw Louis and Octavia again yesterday. They expressed a willingness to be called on again, if there's ever a need."

"They safeguarded your grandmother's house?"

"And my brother's too, which, since I'm not allowed to see any of them for a while, gives me a bit of peace of mind."

"Why are you not allowed to see them?"

"My brother and cousin had some experiences this week that they're safer not remembering. Niall's magic isn't like your glamour. It doesn't leave the same holes in their minds, but it..." I trailed off. All I had in my mind were cooking metaphors, like a Jell-O mold that had to set, or a souffle that had to rise, undisturbed, or else they would be completely ruined. I didn't think Eric would really understand those. "They just need to not be reminded of the things they're supposed to forget for a while, or the spell will be ineffective."

"That is interesting," he said.

"It kind of is," I agreed. "I have to wonder if that's not where a lot of the fairy stories come from, and the dreamlike qualities attributed to so many of them."

"In my experience, interaction with fairies would be more the stuff of human nightmares, than their dreams."

"I'm sure you could also say the same of vampires," I said fairly, but it earned me a sharp look.

"Without a doubt."

A quick subject change was probably in order, so I just drew something at random.

"How is your eyesight?" He cocked an eyebrow, as if he found the question strange. Maybe he was annoyed to find me calling attention to his moment of weakness. Hastily, I added, "I mean there haven't been any adverse effects of Octavia's spell, or anything like that?"

"None. As I said at the time, I think I may even be better than I was."

He glanced around the kitchen, looking at various items. He paused on something and I turned to see it was the clock on the microwave.

"I need to see Pam before we meet the Weres." He took a few steps towards the front hall and then turned when I didn't move to follow him. I remembered my manners and walked him out.

"Happy hunting," I said, without much enthusiasm as I got the door for him. He didn't seem to notice.

"I will try to check in on you in a night or two, or if it is safe, I will send Pam."

"Thanks. That's very dutiful of you."

He nodded without arguing my choice of words. I did get a lingering kiss goodbye before he left. After closing (and locking) the front door, I wandered into the living room and threw myself down in the chair. Diantha was stretched out on my couch with her boots propped up on my coffee table. They were knee-high and candy apple red. I hoped she didn't have to lace them all the way up every time she wore them. That would take ages.

Diantha was watching a rerun of _**The Worst Dressed Vampire**_, which I'd already seen. We sat in silence as Bev Leveto plundered the fashion victim's closet. She pulled out a vintage sunbathing costume and shot the camera a sardonic look before it cut to a commercial, and Diantha pushed the mute button.

"Isheyourboyfriendnow?"

It was an oddly juvenile question. Despite the fact that she dresses like a teenager, Diantha is a fully grown woman. She might even be older than I am; I've never thought to ask. It could be that because she's going to live so much longer than a normal human, she's just choosing to enjoy a sort of prolonged adolescence, or maybe this is just her personal style. What I really think though, is that it's camouflage. Her wild appearance doesn't just distract from the fact that body isn't exactly right for a human. Seeming like a punk kid probably puts people off their guards. They probably don't think about the fact that she can rip them apart and set the pieces on fire. I realized I was staring hard at her when I noticed she was staring right back.

"No, he isn't," I answered.

"Something'sgoingonthough," she argued. I couldn't really deny it. She'd walked right in on a _something going on_ that might have gone a little further if not for her interruption.

"I don't really know what. I like him better than I ever thought I would," I admitted.

"Be careful," she said, taking heed to make the warning clear.

"Is there something I need to know?" I sighed.

"Nothing you don't know already." Her seriousness was starting to unnerve me. Of course I knew what she meant, but that didn't mean I enjoyed being reminded of it.

"Wait here a minute," I said, and I went to retrieve her belated Christmas gift. I hoped would prove a marvelous diversion from the topic of all the reasons why Eric and I are incompatible and carrying on with him is generally a bad idea.

She liked her necklace, and had me help put it on her. I hoped it was something she'd actually wear. Even if it wasn't, she was gracious about it. She offered to carry Gladiola's back to New Orleans, and that was disappointing. It meant Gladiola wouldn't be visiting any time soon.

"What's keeping her busy?" I asked.

"Youstartedit."

"I started what?"

"She'sinourotherplace."

I took that to mean that she was in Hell. I couldn't help but grinning. I know it's a totally immature response.

"What's she doing there?"

"Gettingahusband."

"Really? That's exciting."

"Yup."

By the look on her face, Diantha didn't find it very exciting at all.

"Will she be back? After she, uh, finds a man?"

"Depends."

"On?" I prompted.

Diantha rolled her eyes as if I were the stupidest woman she'd ever spoken to. "On whether or not he can pass for human. If he can't, they'll stay there.

"That makes sense, I guess. Why'd she decide to get a husband now? New Year's Resolution?"

"She's been thinking of it since Glassport said he was dating her. She wants it to be true. Not with him, though."

"So she just goes off to find a man?"

"Guessso."

We fell into silence with our own thoughts for a moment, Diantha playing with her new necklace and me sitting back on my chair. I could tell the demon girl – woman – was sad about her sister's decision and absence. They were thick as thieves, and I was sure they'd miss each other. I had difficulty deciding what I could say to comfort her. The majority of supes don't mate for life. They've all got their customs, and they're very little like what humans would think of as a marriage.

Vampire marriages tend to be reserved for business or political purposes, and the spouses aren't even obligated to like each other, let alone love and cherish. For shifters, there are just too many mating obligations to really count on monogamy. A fertile woman is often expected to bear the children of multiple men. It's no wonder you get lone wolves. I could understand Tray marrying a human woman rather than get mixed up in that entanglement.

If fairies mate with humans, they tend to take off once those humans are no longer beautiful. Sad, but true. They don't marry each other often at all. Fairies do enjoy making love, either as a show of affection, or just because it feels good, but they're not all that concerned with staking a claim on their sexual partners. If a coupling results in children, the two fairies become more like partners in parenthood, rather than loving spouses. They do use the terms sometimes, but as near as I can tell, when a fairy says "wife," he means something more like "baby-momma."

Apparently demons are different. When I'd asked Mintah if he had children, he'd spoken of not having a wife. I knew Mr. Cataliades had been married, once upon a time, but his wife had died during childbirth. I understood that it was a painful subject with him, and didn't ever bring it up. Odd as it sounds, I suppose that demon marriages are the most traditional, at least by human standards. I felt the weight of Gladiola's decision all the more. If she found a husband who didn't want to live in this world, then she'd be staying in the other, forever. She'd be happy, and presumably loved, but she'd be gone.

"I'm sure she'll find someone who's willing to live here," I tried to assure Diantha.

She shrugged both shoulders, and I decided to leave it alone for now. I wondered if this was why she came by, just for some company and a little commiserating. I couldn't quite feel happy that she was upset, but it did give me a warm feeling to think that she came to me while she was feeling blue. It made me feel like a friend.

"You want some cocoa?" I asked her.

"Gotmarshmallows?"

"I do."

I left to make beverages for both of us, and heard the volume of the television come back up. Worst Dressed Vamp was long over by the time we finished talking, but it sounded like she'd found something else. I came back just as a commercial break was ending.

"What's this one?" I asked as I handed over her mug. She gestured at the television and I turned just as the title screen came up. "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Oh, surely not!

I stood there gaping at the screen as the host started talking. It was like The Bachelor, with a vamp, and fangbangers. Only instead of getting married, the "winner" of the show was turned into a vampire. Diantha started cackling as she looked between the screen, and my expression of horror. How is this even legal?

"They don't actually...?"

But they did, she explained. They don't actually show the winner getting turned, but they do a followup show after he or she has been a vampire for a couple of months at the end of the season. How did something like this even get on the air? I bet the studio was picketed daily. I watched for the program in varying states of shock and disgust as the eight men and women competed for the honor of becoming Miranda's vampire child. Diantha snickered the whole time. When Mike, a sales clerk from the goth store at a mall, got eliminated at the end, I couldn't help but feel that he was the lucky one. As the credits rolled beside Mike's final interview (he had teared up and his eyeliner was running), I snatched the remote away and shut the television off. I set my cold cocoa down on the table. I hadn't taken so much as a sip.

"That was..."

"Funny?" Diantha supplied.

"Awful," I said. "I can't believe that even exists."

"Butyou'redatingavamp," she argued.

"We haven't gone on any actual dates, first of all, so technically no, I'm not, and even if I were, I certainly don't want him to _turn me_!"

"Mightnotgetachoice."

I scoffed. "He'd be sorry if he did, by God."

There wasn't much to my hypothetical threat. If I was turned, I wouldn't be in a position to do anything about it. Niall would certainly have something to say though. Probably Mr. C, too, though unlike my great grandfather, I didn't think that he would actually kill Eric for it. I stewed for a moment before I glanced at the clock. It wasn't late, but I didn't know how long I'd be entertaining my unexpected guest.

"Are you staying in Shreveport tonight?"

"Afewdays."

Was she here to spy on the Arkansas vampires? I went ahead and asked.

"Sorta. Meetingsomepeoplelater."

"Anyone I know?"

"Notyet." She was eying me speculatively, and I could tell she was trying to decide how much of her purpose to tell me.

"Are you staying here? Should I put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room?"

"Can't," she replied, with a little sigh.

"Where are you staying then?"

"Casino." Which meant it was some matter of business.

Knowing who she worked for, I didn't ask anything else. Instead, I found a nice movie for us to watch, where no one became undead at the end, and no sisters ran off to elope in Hell. We chatted a little more, but by the time the movie ended, I wanted to get ready for bed, and she had to go check in to her hotel. When she said Casino, I naturally assumed she meant the one that was vampire-owned. They wouldn't bat an eye at a late evening check-in.

After she'd left, I took a nice long bath, pampering myself utterly. Once my hair was dry, I pulled out Niall's Christmas gift, and proceeded to brush my hair – a hundred strokes. I got into my nightgown, which was long and white with a little bit of lace across the bust. I couldn't explain why I went to all the trouble. It's just nice to feel pretty just for yourself every once in a while.

Tray was on duty when I arrived at Splendide the following morning. He held the door open for me, but he kept his eyes averted, and didn't return my greeting of, "Good morning." My smile faltered as I gave a little sigh, but I straightened it out and said hello to Holly, and waved into Brenda's office. She was on the phone.

My morning seemed to drag. No matter how many things I got done, the clock just didn't budge. I gave an internal whoop when it finally reached an appropriate hour to go to lunch. When I emerged from the stairs, I was pleasantly surprised to see Ghellert standing there. Without even thinking about it, I launched myself at him and hugged.

"I thought you'd gone home!" I exclaimed with a big smile. He didn't return the hug, or my smile, but at least he wasn't scowling in my general direction like _some_ security guards. I stepped back quickly just the same.

"Not yet."

"Did you have a good vacation?" I asked pleasantly. "Happy New Year, by the way."

"I was with my brothers. It was nice to rest."

Polite conversation would have dictated that he then ask after my vacation, but since he'd never been particularly talkative, I didn't hold it against him. I excused myself and went out to my car. On a nicer day I would have walked, but it really was too chilly, especially in the wind. Stopped at a traffic light, I saw a piece of newspaper tumble past, and with a particularly sharp gust, I actually felt the car rock. Another storm was blowing in. It was going to be a nasty night.

I enjoyed a hot roast beef sandwich, a plate of fries, and some coleslaw before returning to work. Ghellert had taken up a post in the empty hallway between the lab and the vault. I found his presence reassuring, and hoped he stayed close while the vamps were here this evening.

Late in the afternoon, Wilson Bellows came down the freight elevator with something very large on a dolly. I held the door while he wheeled in the foam covered treasure. Our new procedures require a very thorough examination of everything going into the vault, so he and I got to work. This was a George III secretaire made of tulipwood. In and of itself, the desk was lovely, but what made it special was the fact that it was made in England with lumber from the Colonies, and then shipped back here, very shortly before the Revolutionary War broke out. To say that trade relations were a bit shaky during that time period would be an understatement.

Wilson had driven clear across to Savannah, Georgia to retrieve this desk, and I knew that Brenda would be thrilled. I found the original shipping receipt, faded and framed, in one of the wider drawers.

After a couple hours' examination, I was pretty confident that nothing supernatural had so much as sneezed on the desk. Wilson took dozens of pictures which Brenda would be able to provide to potential buyers upon request, and then I helped him repack the antique for storage.

Ghellert ignored our struggle out in the hallway. His eyes were fixed immovably on the door leading upstairs. I let my mind stretch for a moment as I confirmed what had him so vigilant. There were three vampires upstairs. I hurried to help get the desk into a secure corner of the vault. As Wilson wheeled the empty dolly onto the elevator, Ghellert stepped in beside him. He jerked his head toward the lab just as the doors closed, and I didn't hesitate to scurry away and lock myself inside.

It was the combination of many things that had me so jittery. I wasn't thrilled to be left alone down here, but I appreciated the fact that Ghellert was escorting Wilson safely past the visitors. Eric's warning and Diantha's unexplained presence in Shreveport had me on edge. If these vamps were here to investigate the disappearance of Waldo, I was exactly who they were looking for. Did they know that? To top it all off, I'd used the brush last night, and now I had fairy hair! It was probably like vampire catnip.

The tapping at the window caused me to spin abruptly on my heel, but it was only Ghellert. I unlocked the door and stood back so he could enter. He did, but remained standing where he had a view of the hallway.

"There are three of them, and one outside. The one outside is employed here. The woman."

"Thalia," I said helpfully.

"Yes. That one. You are making a lot of noise, it is difficult to hear."

I didn't think I was making that much noise. I was only pacing. I sat on my stool and tried to keep still.

"You can hear them all the way upstairs?"

"When you are quiet."

That was amazing to me, but I wasn't going to pester him right now. I reached for Brenda's mind, which I rarely do intentionally. I wanted to be sure she was alright. She was up there alone with them. That didn't seem very wise.

"Shouldn't you be up there with her?"

"She is safe. They would be fools to make trouble here."

"If that's really true, why are you so nervous?"

"You are the nervous one. I am alert."

Very unhelpfully, Brenda wasn't thinking about whatever they had brought in. She was thinking of ways to convince them to try to sell it, and a long list of people that she believed would jump at the chance to try to buy it. Since her inner monologue wasn't much help, I tried to hone in on the portion of her thoughts focused on the conversation she was having.

"That's a matter you'd have to take up with our Queen. I'm afraid we're not at liberty to do anything more than have the piece authenticated and appraised."

"I understand. As I discussed with your liaison, there is a fee for the service, and I'll need one of you to sign our release. Our appraiser is on site this evening, but it is a necessary formality when we take possession of an item, even if it's just to carry it downstairs."

Brenda was disappointed, but determined to maintain the face of the genial businesswoman she was. She was feeling a little nervous too, and I heard her excuse herself, while the vamps were filling out paperwork, and then sensed her moving toward the front entrance.

_Better than nothing, at least she's one of ours._

She'd summoned Thalia inside. The vampire Brenda kept thinking of as "the big one," was freaking her out. I whispered the play by play to Ghellert, who nodded as if I was confirming what he already knew.

"Perfect," Brenda said. She noted the dollar amount on the check and was pleased. "If you all will wait here, I'll just take this downstairs." The storage case was unwieldy and Brenda was considering how best to lift and carry it without looking like she was struggling. Suddenly it was pulled away from her.

"I'm afraid we have orders not to let the staff out of our sight. One of us will accompany you."

"Oh no," Brenda said. "That's not possible. We have strict security procedures in place, and the lab area is only accessible by our staff. I assure you, the entire building is monitored by security cameras. We will never be out of sight."

"We have procedure: follow order of our Queen." That was the big one. His English was not so good.

I felt Brenda quail under the gaze of the large vampire. She was smart enough to keep her eyes averted, but I didn't know how long she'd hold out.

"I'm sorry, but as the manager of this facility, I really cannot make exceptions."

"Ms. Hesterman..." Their back and forth continued.

"They're going to glamour her and come down here," I said darkly, looking at Ghellert. "We have to go up there."

"I will go up."

"Wait," I said, and I sprinted to one of the cabinets and grabbed a pair of dark tinted goggles. I thrust them at Ghellert.

"What is this?"

"They're to protect my eyes when I have to use certain UV lights. They'll let you watch them but keep from getting glamoured. Put them on."

Accepting my reasonable explanation, he did as I instructed and then flew out the doors. I like a man who'll follow instructions.

Once I had a second to think, a couple of things occurred to me. These vampires weren't from Arkansas at all, but from New Orleans. That explained why Diantha was in town. She was a messenger for the Queen and these vampires worked for the Queen. She hadn't told me her business, and now I reasoned that was because Eric wasn't meant to know. It bugged me a little that she didn't feel she could trust me not to tell Eric, but at the same time I was thankful that she hadn't put me in that position. Stupid vampires, always sneaking around and spying on each other.

The group upstairs had been seen by Thalia, so the jig was up. I called Eric. He didn't answer, so I left him a voicemail.

Brenda was very, very tense, and Ghellert was completely locked down, unreadable. I took a deep breath. The Queen of Louisiana was a valuable client. We are in a business where exceptions and accommodations are made for valuable clients. Brenda is starting to get belligerent and that has to look suspicious. The plan is, and has always been, that I hide in plain sight. Right now, I'm not hiding in plain sight.

I went upstairs. Thalia was hovering at the entrance to the parlor, a position that gave her a view of the hallway where I emerged, the front doors, and the standoff in the sitting room. She gave me an imperceptible nod when I approached. I took it for approval. I held on to that, because I got no approval whatsoever from Brenda and Ghellert when they realized I was there.

The five of them went silent when I entered the room. The three visiting vampires were incredibly still, as only vampires can be.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," I said. "But I was wondering what's the hold up? I don't mean to sound rude, but I'd like to get home some time tonight."

I smiled. It was my nervous smile, but I knew it was still pretty, if a little too wide.

"And you are?" the female vampire asked.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Sookie Stackhouse. I'm the appraiser."

"My name is Valentine."

She had long brown hair, a body that could fairly be called voluptuous, and a heart shaped face with big doe eyes. Her name suited her.

"And these," she continued, when I returned her nod, "are Sigebert," she gestured to the large vampire, and then to the handsome dark-haired one, "and William Compton."

"Pleased to meet you," I murmured. Sigebert was leering.

Brenda had collected herself a little. "I was trying to explain to our guests that their relic will be absolutely secure in our laboratory, but that we cannot allow non-personnel to be admitted while you do your work."

"And we," cut in William Compton, "were explaining that we have strict orders not to let the staff out of our sight. We are aware that this facility has recently suffered a security breach, and while it is our Queen's prerogative to continue giving Splendide her patronage, she is unwilling to take any chances."

Brenda huffed out a sigh. She'd taken the robbery incredibly personally. Before she could offer further rebuttal, I jumped in.

"May I offer a suggestion?"

No one answered, but everyone was looking at me. After a beat of silence, Sigebert smirked. It was hideous.

"Perhaps Ms. Hesterman would be willing to make an exception for the Queen's representatives. If two of our guests will exit the premises, one can accompany us, along with both of our guards, to the secure area?"

Brenda glared at me, but I could see that she liked the idea of getting at least two of the visiting vamps out of the building, and giving us the advantage of numbers. She was still very tightly wound, and expecting violence to break out at any moment.

The vampires shared an exchange of glances. I assumed they'd choose Sigebert to accompany us downstairs, since I judged him to be the strongest. Physically he was the most formidable and I guessed he was also the oldest, but it was William who spoke.

"We're amenable to that. We have other duties to attend to tonight as well, and would like to move this process along." I wanted to roll my eyes at his sneering tone, but I managed not to.

"That's acceptable," Brenda said stiffly.

In short order, Thalia was showing Valentine and Sigebert the door while Ghellert, Brenda, William, and I went downstairs. Ghellert still had the UV goggles on. He looked a little like Corey Hart, wearing his sunglasses at night.

I gestured to the work bench once we were downstairs and Compton put the case down and opened it.

"So, what have you got for me?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful as Thalia slipped inside. Brenda had been hovering by the door, but once Thalia entered, she moved away to a far corner. Ghellert was standing about three paces behind me.

I stopped being terrified of the vampire when I looked in the box, and started being terrified for a whole other reason.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed. "Is this was I think it is?"

"Isn't it _your_ job to tell _me_ that?" the vampire replied.

Cushioned in the satin-lined case was a rod about three feet long, topped with a very large pine cone. There were long, leathery tines attached just below the cone. The edges were ragged where I assumed they had brushed along the ground as the staff was carried. They weren't actually leather. If this was indeed authentic, they were intestines.

The thing was shaped more or less like a mace, but while getting walloped with a giant pine cone may sting a bit, this wasn't a weapon. It's a symbol and a vessel. Actually, more than a mace, it kind of resembles an oversized honey dipper, which makes sense, since that was one of its uses. Mostly it was a token of office. Once, it would have had ritual purposes, but it's been a mighty long time since the last proper bacchanalia. I retrieved a pair of gloves.

"It's a thrysus. Where on earth did you come across a sadyr?"

"Not a sadyr."

"No!" I could hear disbelief and denial in my voice.

"No?" he inquired.

"This belongs to a maenad?"

"It belongs to the Queen of Louisiana," he said nastily.

"My apologies," I said quickly. "It belon_ged_ to a maenad?"

"That is what we are here to confirm."

"You don't think maybe she'll want it back?" I asked.

"She is dead."

"Uh-huh."

There aren't, and never were, a lot of maenads. The ones who are still around are thousands of years old and practically immortal. That's true immortal, in the sense of the gods themselves, not vampire-immortal, where they just won't die provided no one kills them. The effort required to subdue or even truly injure a maenad would be enormous. As far as I'm aware, it's been hundreds of years since one has died. If it happened again recently, people would have heard about it.

"Are you calling a king a liar?" the vampire asked. He had a dry, flat tone. Was he baiting me?

"What?"

"The King of Arkansas has stated that a maenad was killed in his kingdom, and he claimed the prize. He presented it to our Queen as a token of his affection." Was he insane? Whatever happened to a nice unicorn horn or something? No. No way. It couldn't possibly be.

"Okay. Yes."

"Yes what?" the vampire demanded.

"Yes, I'm calling the king a liar," I said. If he went aggressive, then Ghellert and Thalia would have cause to defend me, and I could also defend myself. No way this thing is a real thrysus. It could make a handy stake though.

After giving me one of those characteristic long stares, the vampire finally let his features relax. "Very well," he accepted. "Now prove it."

I set about to do just that, making notes as I went. The easiest thing to do would be to date and classify the wood. It's also supposed to be a specific type, and that was something I could check for under the microscope. Fennel wood is pretty obscure. It hasn't got a lot of uses. In fact, I think it's only used for this because the plant resembles the shape of the thrysus itself. The vampire was very curious about what I was doing and writing, but when he tried to get too close to me, Ghellert stepped between us. I made a show of using the UV lamp, asking the vampire to step back for his own safety.

I didn't think UV light would actually hurt him. Vampires have been pretty reluctant to let human scientists study them, but there are a lot of artificial sources of UV radiation beaming around all the time, and vampires aren't shrieking with the pain of meeting the sun every time they get near a blacklight, or see a barcode scanner. Mr. Compton stepped back anyway, but still watched me very carefully.

My phone started ringing before I was done. It was Eric.

"I'm so sorry, I have to take this. My boyfriend gets super mad if I don't answer, and he gets nervous about me working late. If I don't pick up, he'll just show up here. He's way overprotective."

I was doing that thing where you're lying, so you talk too much. I just couldn't stop myself.

"Hi sweetcheeks! I missed you today. Everything okay?" I answered.

"Sookie?" He was understandably confused by my greeting. "I received your message."

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry I have to work late. I promise I'll be home soon."

Damn it, Eric. Catch on! There was a pause.

"Are they still there?"

"Yes, so don't get fresh! I'm not alone." William was standing near the table. I assumed he could hear the voice through the phone, and hoped it sounded natural enough. I took my chance. "Hold on a sec... Mr. Compton, I'm sorry, but please don't touch those slides with your bare hands. There are gloves by the door if you insist."

Eric growled. I chanced a look up at the others in the room. Thalia looked indifferent. Brenda was staring at the floor. Ghellert was looking at me like I'd gone round the twist. William was showing only mild disdain, which I would take over angry suspicion any day of the week.

"Are you safe?" Eric asked.

"Yes honey," I said dramatically. "Ghellert will be here to walk me to my car when I leave. Don't worry."

"I will speak to you later."

"Okay great," I said, and hung up.

There. I'd managed to inform Eric who was here without arousing suspicion. I could give him the names of the other two later, if Thalia didn't talk to him first. It was no big secret that part of her job here was to keep him informed about whom we saw as clients.

We were all still on edge, but the tension in the air had ratcheted down significantly. I just needed to do my work and then get out of here.

The thrysus was a quality reproduction, but that's all it was. Thank God (and not Dionysus), because the last thing we need in Shreveport is a pissed off maenad. I let out a sigh of relief as I confirmed the age of the wood to be only a hundred years or so. The pine cone was actually older, but not anywhere near being three thousand years old and preserved by magic. There was power to it. I could feel that. Obviously the vampires could too, or they wouldn't have bothered coming here. This might have been used by a witch or a shaman, but definitely not a maenad. I didn't go insane by handling it, even gloved. Exhibit C. It also lacked the ivy vines which were supposed to be present. They're not decorative. Though toxic to humans, the maenads eat them.

I had a long form to fill out, and then I had to write my personal comments. I appraised it like I would a magical relic a couple of hundred years old.

"It's a very lovely piece," I announced, reciting my standard speech, "but I'm afraid it's not authentic."

"I see," said the vampire.

I closed the case and placed the manilla envelope containing my detailed, signed report.

"So you're saying the thing is worthless," the vampire said.

"I've included a valuation you could expect to receive at auction," I said, diplomatically. This is always difficult. I've had people cry. I didn't think there was risk of that in this instance, but I didn't rule out some worse reaction. "May I speak candidly?"

"Have you not been?"

I ignored that. "It's a good thing that it's not real. It would be too dangerous to possess. It's not a trinket. It's certainly not a 'love token.' If I'd believed it to be authentic, we would have refused to examine it."

"The staff of a maenad?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"Are they really that dangerous?"

Is he new? "Um, _yes_," I tried to emphasize.

"Yes." It was Thalia who spoke.

He wouldn't take my word for it, but evidently he'd take hers. After sharing a long look with the ancient vampire, William gathered up his case and we all walked in procession to escort him from the building.

After they'd left, I slumped on one of the guest chairs in front of Holly's desk.

"That was really, really stressful."

"What the hell were you thinking telling him he could come downstairs Sookie? You know I'm going to have to report this to Upper Management."

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Make sure you tell him that the Queen's vamps were about three seconds away from glamouring you and storming the lab to force me to do the work."

"I had that under control."

"You did not," I said. "You hate vamps on principle, and you were being rigid to the point of argument. With _clients_. You're the one who tells me that in this line of work, sometimes we have to bend."

"I was protecting you just as much. Just because you're..." she started to say. My eyes shot straight to her in warning.

"I know where I work and who I sometimes have to work for. You know full well that even if I may grumble, I'll do what has to be done. I did the right thing. You know it. Call Management, see if he disagrees."

"He will not." That was Ghellert.

Brenda turned on her heel and stormed off toward her office. Make that two people at work who hate my guts.

I went and cleaned up the lab, retrieved my purse and coat, and locked up downstairs. Brenda was in her office, but she didn't answer the door when I knocked.

I breathed deep when I reached the freezing cold air. It was late, and it was quiet, if still a little windy. Thalia moved beside me, resuming her post outside. Her mind was as restful as Eric's. She walked me to my car, and I went home.


	28. Coat of Vampires

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine "the Grinch" Harris (I kid, with fond affection).

This story is being beta'd by the very wonderful FiniteAnarchy. I run out of synonyms for "generous" and "terrific" but I don't run short on the sentiment. Thank you!

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Chapter 28 – Coat of Vampires

It was even later than I realized by the time I got home. I ate dinner because I knew I should, but I didn't even taste it. I just looked down after a few minutes and realized the little black microwavable dish was now empty. We'd dodged a bullet earlier at Splendide, but it wasn't clear if it had been aimed at us, or if we'd just been caught up in friendly fire.

I tried to piece together everything I knew, and the things I suspected. The Queen had been hosting a suitor from Arkansas, and during his stay one of her vampires had gone missing. It really was only natural that she'd suspect the guests.

Arkansas wasn't responsible, though. It made sense that they'd want to clear their good names. Does anyone realize yet that Waldo is finally dead? They must. A face like that (I shuddered as I remembered), it stood out. He wouldn't be hard to track down, if it were still possible to do so.

I imagined the search effort; vampires stopping people on the streets or posting handbills with his portrait. _Have you seen this ghastly, shriveled monster?_

The Arkansas vampires are in Shreveport now, and the New Orleans vamps had followed. They didn't want Eric to know they were here, or at least they didn't want him to know they were here last night. Why was that?

It was the composition of the New Orleans group that bugged me. The three out-of-towners were very conspicuous, especially with that giant Sigebert. That group made sense if all they were doing here was transporting a dangerous supernatural object, but that definitely was not all they were doing here.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the three of them were almost _too_ overt. Thalia would have reported their presence to Eric after they'd left, but I wondered if they expected her. That arrangement was still new. Taking that into account put a whole different spin on the events that transpired with Brenda.

If they _had_ glamoured her, we would have lodged a complaint with the local Sheriff. After all, that was the reason Brenda and I had been initially introduced to Eric. It was the same with Colonel Flood. If there were ever an incident with certain clientele, we knew to whom it should be reported. Looking at it that way, it seemed the visitors had been determined to be placed at Splendide this evening. So what was transpiring elsewhere that required them to need an alibi?

I didn't bother staying up late. Eric had said we'd speak "later," but that could just as easily mean later in the week as later tonight. If there were all these strangers in town, it wasn't a good idea for him to come here anyway, in case he was followed. I dressed for sleep and went to bed, lying awake for about two hours anyway, trying to puzzle out what might be going on, but vampires were so devious and scheming by nature that it was hard to rule out any possibilities.

It was after midnight when I realized I was allowing myself to lose sleep worrying about something that was in no way my problem. When did I become so concerned about what the vampires do to each other? I tried to argue that it was when they brought their skullduggery into my city, into my place of work, but that wasn't my honest feeling. The last thing I remember thinking before I fell asleep was that the reason I cared so much about what the vampires were up to, was simply because I worried what would happen to Eric if he got caught in the middle.

I woke instantly when I heard the knocking on my front door. Some part of my brain had been waiting for the interruption all night, and so in addition to having too little, my sleep had been light and not very restful. The weak glow of dawn that streamed through the windows informed me that my caller wasn't a vampire. Diantha was outside looking unnaturally somber in black boots, black jeans, and a black leather jacket.

"There'saneagleonyourroof," she announced as I let her inside. She followed me to the kitchen. "Ican'tstay."

"I sure do hear that a lot lately," I muttered.

"GottaseeUncle."

"Please send him my best."

"Okay."

I took out two bowls and put a box of cereal and some milk on the table. I heard Diantha helping herself as I put the coffee on. By now she knew that I knew there was a lot more to her purpose here two nights ago than she'd let on. I reminded myself once again that she had her own job to do. I wasn't exactly sharing everything with her either, and maybe she was aware of that as well.

Mr. Cataliades might have an inkling that I knew something about the fate of Waldo. Eric and I had been in the right place at the right time, and Mr. C is too shrewd to ignore a coincidence. If it were really important, I believe that he would have asked me outright. For now, if I didn't fess up he didn't have to lie for me. That was for the best.

"Theysaidyourname," Diantha finally said. "Youalright?"

"I assume you are talking about the Queen's vamps?"

"Yeah."

"It definitely got tense, but I think it resolved alright."

We were quiet while we ate.

"Areyoumad?"

I felt something relax inside me as I heard the worry in her voice.

"I'm not mad," I said, and unlike earlier, I meant it. "There are things I can't tell you either."

We shared a long look before she stirred to leave. She had a busy day, and as it turned out, so did I.

It wasn't ten minutes after Diantha left that Brenda called me. I answered on the second ring. In a very clipped exchange, she informed me that I needed to drive up to Texarkana to visit a junk shop which was human-owned, but rumored to possess some things that would be better off in our care.

I sighed.

We can't really ignore the supernatural rumor mill. Supes are nothing if not traditional, and few traditions are so ingrained as gossiping around the proverbial water well. Now that I think of it, that's probably another reason why Eric's primary business is a bar. Word-of-mouth exchanges remain the primary means of disseminating information in the supe world.

I agreed to make the field trip, not that I had much choice.

"Do you want me to call you before I make any purchases?" I asked.

"We trust your judgment."

I didn't miss the "we." I figured she _had_ called Mintah, and evidently I was off that particular hook. Clearly I was still in Brenda's bad books, hence my exile for the day. A little break was probably in order. Tomorrow cooler heads would prevail and we'd move past the events of last night, or at least be more ready to pretend they didn't happen.

After we hung up, I went to find something to wear which would fall somewhere between jeans and a full suit on the scale of professional attire. I settled on a burgundy skirt and a pale pink top and flats, and spent some extra time styling my hair and applying makeup.

I can't help the fact that I am pretty and blonde (hey, when you grow up with a disability, it helps to learn to acknowledge your more conventional assets). I also can't help the fact that people tend to underestimate a pretty woman. A lot of people don't expect me to be a shrewd negotiator.

The two hour drive passed uneventfully, and I didn't have any trouble finding my way to the address that Brenda had sent. Texarkana is well known, but it's not very big at all. The city spans the border between Texas and Arkansas, though it's actually a good hour north of the Louisiana State Line, so its a bit of a misnomer. There's nothing at all marking the actual border of the three states. No town, no place to pull over. There's not even a sign. You'd think someone would put one up and try to sell postcards. They could paint lines on the ground and let people jump back and forth between the borders. I'm in Texas! Now I'm in Louisiana! Now I'm in Arkansas!

The "junk shop" turned out to be a quiet and well-kept antiques store with a cute display in the window. At worst, it was quaint, which despite Brenda's description, was what I had expected. She tended towards snobbery, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It's probably a quality you want in someone whose job it is to encourage people to buy really expensive things mostly just for the sake of possessing them.

The shop was very cluttered, serving as both storage facility and showroom. Curios and other smaller objects were displayed on tables or in cabinets which were also tagged for sale. I noted the asking prices were a little ambitious, but I'd come prepared to negotiate. The man who I presumed to be the owner had smiled at me when I first walked in, but he took his time to look busy for a few minutes before coming over.

"Are you looking for anything particular today?"

"I'm just browsing right now, but I'll let you know if I need anything."

He checked in with me periodically, but mostly left me alone. I made notes as I worked my way through. There were definitely a couple of things that I'd be taking today. I recognized a silver rod with small knobs on the ends as an object which was sometimes used by Weres in endurance contests. It sat in a little stand on a desk, displayed as if it were a baton of office. There were a handful of things among the minimal display of Native American relics which I'd be taking; paraphernalia that would once have belonged to a Were pack shaman.

It was easy to guess that a Were had been the one to provide the tip about this place. That was another not-so-subtle dig from Brenda about where her priorities lay.

The things I found were by no means dangerous. They did have a certain power to them, as many things of supernatural make will. Humans wouldn't notice it. At best, they might feel some inexplicable draw towards these objects, for the power they contained. They wouldn't recognize that feeling, but I could. It greatly helped my search through all the bric-a-brac. There was something more to find here...

"Have you seen our jewelry case?"

I jumped. The shop owner was standing right beside me again, and I'd been so absorbed with trying to focus on what I was feeling that I hadn't noticed him approach.

"What?"

"We have a lovely collection of estate jewelry," he continued. "I can see by your taste that you appreciate antique craftsmanship."

I looked up to see that he was staring at my boobs. Gross. He was barely taller than I was, red and jowly about the neck, and had something of a sour smell to him. It was an effort not to recoil.

"I'll be sure to look before I'm done, thank you."

He nodded, but didn't back off. I'd been in the shop a while by that point, and he was ready to make a sale or see the back of me.

I moved toward a display of lamps. There was a nice Tiffany-style one and a green glass banker's lamp, which made me think of Mr. Cataliades. He had one on his desk. There were also older lamps and lanterns, including an oil street light, which could have been a prize piece for a certain type of collector.

"You have some very nice things here," I commented, since Jowly wasn't going anywhere.

"Thank you. Do you collect anything in particular?"

"Knives," I said absently. There was something very close that I needed to see.

The palm-sized globe was seated inside a larger, empty lantern, taking the place of the fat tallow candle it would have housed. The glass of the globe was very thick and it was hollow in the center. It had a slight iridescence, like a giant pearl. I carefully opened the latch on the lantern, but paused as I reached inside. The air in the shop was cool, as was the metal and glass of the lantern, but the globe felt warm, even a couple of inches away. Somehow I knew I shouldn't touch it here, in front of the shop owner. I snapped the little door shut and held up the lantern by the hook on top.

"How much are you asking for this?"

_Finally. I thought she'd be here all day, not that she hasn't been nice to look at._

I continued to smile.

"For the lantern, or the prism?"

"Both," I answered quickly. "I like how you've displayed them together."

He did not need to know there was anything special about what he was calling "the prism." I could see how the globe might have been mistaken for one. Back before you could choose from many different light bulbs in the grocery store, back before electricity entirely, lamp makers did a lot of clever things with glass to refract and magnify the incandescence. Suspending a glass orb like this over a low flame is an easy way to create a brighter glow.

He leaned over and tore off the price tag, which I hadn't had a chance to see. That was of little importance because he had every intention of overcharging me anyway.

_Need at least eleven for both. She'll go for more._

"Seventeen hundred for the set. Shall I wrap them for you?"

"Nine hundred," I countered.

"Nine hundred?" I'd taken him by surprise. He hadn't expected me to haggle, or to hit so much nearer to the actual value. He hesitated before saying, "I can go as low as fifteen fifty." It hardly sounded like his final offer.

"It's not worth more than twelve, including packing and shipping," I said blandly. "I'll give you a thousand for it, and carry it out today."

Even though he was trying to get one over on me, I knew it was the other way around. I didn't revel in that, but this was how it had to be. In the end, he would get a fair price for what he believed he had. That was the best I could do.

I wished I was buying it for myself. I really, really wanted that globe, but I was here on business. It just wouldn't be right to make a personal purchase right out from under Splendide. Ethical qualms aside, I couldn't really afford it. Between what I'd spent at Christmas, and what I was going to be spending on the improvements for Gran's house, I couldn't justify it. This did not prevent me from bargaining as though I were spending my own money, however.

"Twelve fifty," he said tightly.

"Twelve," I said firmly.

"Done," he agreed.

"I'll take the silver rod for fifteen hundred, and the Indian cup and the mortar and pestle together for eight, as well."

"Ye-fine," he huffed after only a moment's delay. He was really off his game at this point, but these prices were fair. He knew it. He just hadn't expected me to know it. "Will you take them today?" he asked, hoping that just maybe he could eek out a little more by inflating the shipping costs. I couldn't really blame him. Yes, he was a bit smarmy, but the profit margins at a place like this are small.

"I will," I agreed. "If you could pack the others, I'll pay a handling fee. This," I held up the lantern, "I'll take as-is."

We made quick work finishing the transaction after that. I paid by check. I'd be reimbursed tomorrow, maybe even today if I made good time getting back to Shreveport. I never told him I was from Splendide. He would have charged me a lot more if I had.

It took me a couple of trips to get things loaded into the car. The lantern went on the floor in the front seat. I didn't think I could wait until I got home, or back to work, to examine it. I was planning to find a nice secluded parking lot somewhere and have a look before I really got on the road. As if such a place would magically appear before me, I looked up and down the street. It was wide, and very clean. The old storefronts were neatly kept, with occasional awnings that would be rolled in each night and unfurled again in the mornings. This road looked like something out of the 1920's. I half expected to see a Model T putter by.

At the nearest intersection stood a post office which was probably one of the oldest buildings in town, and the tallest too. They were flying the flag of course, and on top of the steeple roof an eagle was perched. Hm.

With a mental shrug, I got in the car and headed back to the highway. I pulled off at the first exit that didn't seem to lead anywhere exciting. Along the road which probably led to a tiny hamlet not unlike Bon Temps, I spotted a dirt track and turned. There was no one around.

I pulled the lantern up on to the seat and reached inside to retrieve the orb. I moved very gingerly, almost afraid to touch it, but the second my fingers brushed it, I gripped it tightly, and a second later, I was holding it in both hands.

The nacreous swirls on the surface of the glass began to move slowly, and as I spread my fingers around the ball it began to glow with a very pale golden light. I crouched down, holding it towards the floor so I could see it better, but when that proved terribly uncomfortable I sat back up and just watched, mesmerized, as the faint colors twisted on the globe's surface.

I'm very aware of my fae heritage, but I'm not sure that had ever felt less like an abstract concept. This was a fairy light, a will-o'-the-wisp, and it was responding to _me_, to my touch. If I were a real fairy, it would be shining radiantly, brilliant like a beacon in the gloom. It would float, held aloft by magic, like some effervescent chemical reaction to my touch. I didn't like to pull my hands away, but I had to test it. I'm positive it hovered a moment before it dropped back to my lap under its own weight.

I don't know how long I watched the thing. It seemed to be glowing brighter the longer I held it. It was so beautiful and it just felt right that I should hold it.

There was a sharp rapping on the window and I screamed as I turned to my left to see my entire field of vision filled with a great hulking form clad in a ragged... was that a cloak? I forced myself to lift my eyes, but I was glad I did. I pushed the button to lower the window.

"Ghellert? What are you doing here?"

"That is the question for you. It is almost dusk."

"Ghellert," He obviously didn't understand the significance of my find. "It's a will-o'-the-wisp. Look," I said, holding up the glowing ball.

Quick as a flash he snatched it from my hands, the light winking out the instant he touched it.

"Hey!" I exclaimed.

"You," he said pointedly, "must go home. And this," he shook the ball at me, and it was all I could do not to reach out and take it from him. "This will not help you get there. Open the trunk of the car."

Sulkily, I pushed the button to open the trunk, letting out a deep sigh, and then a shiver. I hadn't noticed how cold it was out here. Ghellert was right, of course. Fairy lights are notoriously distracting, even if you are the one activating them, apparently. I glanced at the clock and winced as I realized I'd been sitting here for over an hour. After closing the trunk, Ghellert went around to the passenger side and tapped for me to unlock the door. When I realized he was getting inside, I scrambled to shift the glass lantern out of the way. It went rather unceremoniously into the back seat. It would be fine there.

He smelled horrible. The cloak he was wearing seemed to be made of feathers, and as I glanced over at his bare knees, I realized that it was _all_ he was wearing. Oh dear.

I waited for him to say whatever it was he was going to say, but he didn't speak. I didn't enjoy feeling awkward in my own car.

"Well?" I finally asked.

"Well? Go," he said, and pointed forward.

"Go?" I asked. "You're driving with me?"

"Yes. We should go now."

I shrugged my shoulders and turned on the ignition, then threw the car into reverse to make a tight three point turn.

"I figured you'd fly," I said.

"This is better," was all he said.

Back on the highway, we were about fifteen minutes from my secluded spot when finally I had to open a window. I turned the heater up at the same time.

"Ghellert?"

"Yes?"

"Was that you on the post office?"

"Yes."

"Ghellert?"

"Yes?"

"What's with the cloak?"

"It's a coat."

"Okay, what's with the coat?"

"It's my coat."

"Let me rephrase. How do you have a coat with you? Did you carry it when you flew?" And did you accidentally drop it in a garbage dump along the way?

"How do you light the will-o-wisp?"

"I don't know, I just can. I'm part fairy. That's just how it works."

"I have my coat because I am an eagle. That is just how it works."

"So when you shift back, you are still wearing your coat of feathers?"

"If I wish to be."

"Like a selkie?" I asked, thinking of the stories I'd read about the sealskin. Niall had assured me they weren't true.

"No. Yes." I could hear the frown in his voice. "There is a myth that surrounds them that is false, but it is true in our case. They cannot carry their own true skin, but we can carry our feathers."

"I've never heard of that before," I said honestly. I found this to be fascinating news.

"We are rare."

Since he seemed receptive to talking for once, I was eager to forward the conversation.

"How rare?" Most shifters could fairly be called rare.

"As far as we know, we are the only convocation of our kind." I'd looked up the word the first time I heard it used. It was the collective name for a group of eagles.

My impulse was to ask very nosy questions about the breeding, but it seemed tactless to push the subject when their situation was so dire.

"How long have you worked for Mintah?"

"All my life."

"Is it always as exciting as it's been around here lately?"

"No."

"How old are you?"

"Ninety-seven." Wow.

"Well it hardly shows," I quipped.

He actually smiled a little. I'd peeked over to make sure I hadn't offended him before turning my eyes back to the road.

"Usually we can live more than two centuries, but never more than three."

"So you're about middle aged?"

"Not yet," he said. This time I smiled.

"How is it you live so long? I mean shifters usually... it's the normal human lifespan."

"We are from the south, from the Amazon, and many things live longer there. Not only birds but mammals and reptiles. It is the eagle. The eagle lives more than twice as long as the wolf, and so we live more than twice as long as the werewolves."

"I've never considered that," I admitted. Was there really a correlation between the lifespan of the animal and the lifespan of the shapeshifter? I was going to have to look up some figures and see if that could be true.

"You do not meet with many shifters," he observed.

That was another potential problem with my would-be research project, he was right. I'd have to ask around to find out information on the more obscure shifter lifespans.

"You meet with vampires, demons, and fairies, but not shapeshifters. Only the one who now works at Spledide."

"Tray? He was just hired to help me for a few days." I doubt he would be any help.

"You do not like them."

"Shapeshifters? I like them fine, when they're not treating me like a pariah," I grumbled. "I guess I just don't happen to know very many."

The conversation had carried us most of the way home and once I was on familiar roads, I made my way to Splendide easily. It was well after dark, but the sun sets so early this time of year it wasn't yet seven o'clock when we pulled into the parking lot.

"Wait here a moment," Ghellert instructed. He quickly vanished, thankfully taking the overwhelming stench of carrion with him. I would need to go crazy in here with the Febreeze.

I didn't have any cause to be concerned with his order to stay put. There was no one around, save for a vampire at the door, who I judged to be Anthony Bolivar. Even as a void, his mind was easily discernible from Thalia's. The hole that surrounded him was smaller, shallower. I assumed it was to do with their respective ages. Everyone else in Splendide would be gone for the day.

It wasn't more than a couple of minutes before Ghellert returned and opened my door. He was wearing clothes again. There were several reasons why I was thankful for that.

He carried the will-o'-the-wisp while I tried to manage the rest. The lantern itself was just so cumbersome that I really couldn't carry it all in one trip. Very reluctantly, I locked the sphere away in a separate box in the vault, but only after Ghellert indulged me by letting me hold it for a few minutes.

"It feels like it should belong to me," I said wistfully after he took it away. I hoped he understood what I meant by that. I wasn't coveting the object or anything, it just felt very soothing to be holding it.

"You are fae. It is a fae artifact."

"I've seen dozens of fae artifacts. Scores of them," I said, as the heavy door swung shut behind us. "I've never felt that same pull towards something before."

"You have spent more time with your kin lately. Your scent is more pronounced, even beneath other things."

"Is it?" I asked. I knew that more exposure to the fae could bring out one's own

He made a noise as I not-so-surreptitiously sniffed myself. I felt myself flush. Ghellert stiffened suddenly and I wondered what he was hearing. I pushed my mind out and felt it just as he said, "There are other vampires outside."

"One's Eric," I said automatically. I just knew. I was having an above average amount of intuitive responses today. The other one I was having was sense of great apprehension, but there wasn't much mystical about that.

"The other?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

We continued upstairs, because there was really nothing else to do but finish our business so I could go home.

The three vampires were standing silent when we left the building, but as soon as I was through the door, both Eric and William Compton inhaled deeply.

Oh shit.

"Good evening Sheriff, Mr. Compton," I said, offering each a nod.

"Bill," said Eric stiffly. "I have some business with Miss Stackhouse. If you will excuse us, I will be happy to meet with you tomorrow night to discuss the terms of your residency. I am told Fangtasia will be habitable by then."

"Of course, Sheriff, but it is only a coincidence to have met you here. I too was hoping for a word with Miss Stackhouse."

Why?

"I'm afraid we only operate outside of business hours by appointment. If you have your daytime associate contact our receptionist tomorrow, she'll be happy to schedule you. Was there a problem with your appraisal?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Oh no problem at all," William, who apparently went by Bill, said smoothly. "I was actually hoping to visit on a personal matter."

At this, both Ghellert and Eric turned toward him with their full attention, while poor Anthony did his best impression of not existing.

"Alright?" I prompted. "It's not also a private matter, is it?"

I think Bill was surprised, but he didn't show it very much.

"Not at all. I came across your name yesterday after we left here and I had to inquire. Are you any relation to Adele Stackhouse?"

"She's my grandmother," I answered coolly. Is he threatening my family? Why would he do that? "Why do you ask?"

"She is my new neighbor, though I've yet to meet her."

"Your new... Compton? You're related to old Jesse Compton?" I remembered Gran telling me that he had died. Why hadn't I made the connection last night?

"He was the last of my family line, yes."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said, and Bill looked bemused.

"I'm afraid I didn't know the man, but it seems that since he has no heirs, his property reverts to me."

"And you're moving to Bon Temps?" I asked.

"That's my intention, provided the Sheriff approves my application. Perhaps you could put in a good word for me, Miss Stackhouse," he said, looking back and forth between Eric and I. Does he know it was Eric on the phone? Did he smell Eric on me? Probably yes, to both.

"Coming from the Queen's area, one would hope you have more to recommend you than the word of a _human_ you have met once," Eric interjected. Ouch. "But as I said, we can discuss your references tomorrow."

"Certainly, Sheriff. I'll still be staying at the casino tonight. If you have any further problems with the coven of Weres, feel free to call on me for assistance."

Eric did not respond to that, and so Bill turned back to me.

"I simply wished to reintroduce myself, Miss Stackhouse, perhaps under friendlier terms. I will leave you to your appointment."

With that, Bill Compton made me a small bow, then turned and vanished at vampire speed.

"What the heck was that?" I blurted out.

"Let's go inside," Eric said through clenched teeth.

"You can't." He glared at me. The presence of Bill had only amplified whatever tension he had started out with. Me telling him "no," in front of Anthony and Ghellert was really starting to push his envelope.

"I'm following the security procedures that you helped outline with our Management," I said softly, hoping that reminding him that in a roundabout way they were his rules, would make him more inclined to follow them.

"Of course," Eric said. "May I see you home, Miss Stackhouse? Perhaps you can answer my questions on the way."

"That would be fine," I agreed. "Ghellert, the vault's locked down by now, so we can't get in anyway. I only have a couple of things in my car, and I'll check them in first thing in the morning, is that alright?"

"That will be fine," he said.

I said good night to him and the other guard and walked to my car, leaving Eric to follow.

As soon as he opened the passenger door, he said, "The shifter was in your car?"

"Yes. He was. If you can't bear it, you can meet me at my house."

He got in.

"Why was the shifter in your car?" was just the first of many questions with which Eric bombarded me on the short drive to my house. I answered as best I could, before he interrupted with his next inquiry. Why I had been in Arkansas? Why had Brenda banished me for the day? What happened the night before?

"You've been busy," he said.

We were in my kitchen by then, and I had stopped talking so I could eat. I was famished. Swallowing a bite of grilled cheese, I answered, "So have you. What was he saying about the Were coven?"

"They're gone. All dead but for two, who were chased all the way to Florida. I do not think they will be back. If they are that stupid, I will hear of it within the hour, or as soon as I rise, if they should come in during the day."

"Good."

"Unfortunately, the situation was not resolved before the Queen heard of it. As you saw, she sent people to oversee the...cleanup."

"That's not the only reason they were here."

"Yes. Thalia told me about their visit to your job." Obviously she hadn't told him everything, or else he would have interrupted and had more questions.

"I'm pretty sure they arrived two nights ago."

"Yes," agreed Eric. "Did your demon friend tell you that?"

"No. After she saw you here, she deliberately didn't mention it." When he didn't respond, I asked, "Do they know that you were cursed?"

"Yes. And they know that the witch, Octavia, traveled here to assist me."

"It's a neat story, I guess." There was no doubt it was, so long as no one looked too closely at the time line.

"Considering the scale of the havoc they wreaked, it ended as well as it could have. As you heard, the Queen is moving one of her spies into my territory. She expressed her displeasure at being kept out of the loop."

"I'm sure."

Eric sounded bitter as he explained what was to become his new arrangement. While I did pity him having to deal with unwanted oversight, I was actually a lot more concerned with the fact that this new guy would be moving in next to my grandmother. For an instant, I wished that the damage to the house had been more severe, so that she would have to stay with Jason, or me, indefinitely. Maybe I could sabotage the repair effort.

"Have you fed enough?" he asked. I'd inhaled the rest of my dinner.

"Yes," I agreed, and stood to put my plate in the sink.

"Come," he said, standing up and holding out his hand. I took it without questioning him and he started leading me out of the kitchen.

"Where are we going?"

"To wash the stink of the eagle from your lovely skin. You look particularly beautiful today. It is a shame it had to be marred by the scent."

"Thank you, I think." That was a backhanded compliment if ever I'd heard one.

A shower did sound wonderful, so I let him lead me back to the bathroom, where I did my best to undress unselfconsciously. I didn't realize his plan was to join me until he lifted off his own shirt before coming to help with mine. He burned his fingers on my necklace and cursed, slamming back into the wall.

"Sorry," I giggled, and patted his chest consolingly as I removed the necklace and tucked it into a drawer out of the way. "I wasn't expecting to see you or I wouldn't have worn that one."

I didn't mean to laugh at him, but come on, thousand year old viking, brung low by a pendant chain from JCPenneys? That's funny.

I moaned as I stepped under the hot spray, tilting my head back so the hot water hit me full in the face. After just a second, Eric had spun me around and pressed his mouth to mine, pulling me flush against his chest. Between that, and the heat on my back, I already felt much more relaxed than I had in days.

Eric and I took great pains to scrub every inch of one another with my apricot body wash. I liked the idea that for once, he would be wearing my scent. Very inevitably, certain parts of our anatomies received more attention than others. They say the shower is the most dangerous place in the home, but with Eric holding me, the fear of slipping in the tub was the farthest thing from my mind. My hands pressed against his shoulders and his hand cupped my breast, circling my nipple tantalizingly. His other arm wrapped around my back while he dipped me back into the shower spray to rinse the shampoo from my hair. I let out a soft sigh, thinking that for all the reasons carrying on with him was a terrible idea, moments like this might just make it worth it.

We toweled off, but when I reached for my robe, Eric took it from my hands and pulled it away. He cocked an eyebrow and grinned as he stepped closer. Shrugging, I decided to play, so I crossed to my dresser and took out a nightshirt, which made it halfway out of the drawer before I was pulled backward into his arms and being lifted on to the bed. He covered me with his body, his hands and his mouth, laving at my breasts before moving lower.

Much later, I was curled against his side, playing with the fine blonde hairs on his chest and telling him about the will-o'-the-wisp.

"I never really feel the fairy part of me, you know? I am just a human with a quirk. Even after this week, with Wallace and then Liset...the entire time it just felt like a grave misunderstanding. I kept waiting for her to realize we weren't what she thought and go away."

"This is who you are, lover. There is no point in trying to pretend otherwise."

He pulled me back on top of him and let his hands run up and down my sides before folding them around my back.

"I am glad those fairies are dead, and I am glad you got to play with the bauble. I have never seen one up close before."

"It's so beautiful," I told him. "I can't even imagine what it would look like if a real fairy held it."

"They're very bright. You can see them from a long way off."

"You've seen them lit?"

"A long time ago, when Pam was young."

"Tell me?" I asked, kissing his neck and burying my head in the crook.

"We had to leave London after she was turned of course, so we went to the country, in the west. I think we were in Wales. One night we saw three lights across a lake, and we followed them until dawn. We never got closer, but the smell of the fairies was on the air. Pam was very excited."

"Does this story end with you killing and eating someone who was probably distantly related to me?"

"I'm sure it was very distant."

"Eric!"

"Would you prefer that I lie? We tracked them for many nights, always by the water, if that is any consolation. I doubt they were of your great grandfather's affinity. Most likely they were his enemies, though I admit that is a guess."

I sighed, hating the fact that, yes, I was actually more okay with their fate if they were fairies of the Water Clan.

"So you caught them and killed them and gorged yourselves on their blood, the end?"

"They knew that we were hunting them. They ran and we chased and they evaded us. Pam was so young, she would not give up. Like a dog with a bone," he chuckled. "Eventually they laid a trap, but I was cautious. When it came to the fight, she was stronger than the fairy, or even I, expected her to be. She was very happy when she won."

"That's a lovely story, Eric."

"You know that this is the way of things," he admonished. "If they had found us first, or found us in the day, it would have been the same, only we would have been the hunted."

"Maybe," I said. He was probably right. There was no reason for the fairies to stick around after they'd gotten wind of the vampires, unless they too, were enjoying the prospect of the bloodsport. "I think I'm too human to really understand."

He laughed at that, but there was a bitter edge to it. I understood what had amused him. Some humans are no different.


	29. Dressed in Fine Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The beta for this story is FiniteAnarchy. She's updated **Dead Memories** this week! It's a really intriguing take on the amnesia curse, set pre-Revelation. I'm always excited to get her chapters. Please check it out if you're not already reading!

About Birds of a Feather:  
I know that there's a little bit of frustration with this story in terms of connecting each chapter to the over-arching progression of the characters (Sookie herself, and the romance with Eric, specifically). If this were a book, you could just read ahead to get to the resolution you were hoping for. Instead you have to be content with what I put out each week. I was going to summarize a bit, to say where we are compared to where we've been, but it seemed way pretentious. If I were doing as good a job as I hoped, you wouldn't need me to tell you what you've already read. At the same time, this story has been in progress for five months, and that's a long time to retain minutia.

Overall I'm happy with where we are at this point. Not every chapter is my most favorite (although I quite like the one you're about to read), but I think every chapter has added something important to the story I'm trying to tell. I'm happy to answer questions if you have them. I've said a few times that I welcome criticism, and that continues to be true. It's not always easy to swallow, but considering how easy it is to simply discard these stories and not bother, I do understand that things come from a positive place.

Okey dokey. I think that's more than enough. Time for the story.

* * *

Chapter 29 – Dressed in Fine Vampire

"What's going on with Arkansas?" I asked suddenly. There'd been a touch of melancholy encroaching on my moment of bliss and I wanted to banish it.

"Most likely Sophie-Anne will withdraw from the marriage negotiations."

"Are they still here?"

I felt him tense under me and I knew the answer was yes before he said it.

"Yes. They are still touring our beautiful city, and thankfully their investigation into the death of Waldo has not borne fruit." He paused then and looked up at me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to continue. I just waited. "I am unsure why they linger here, but I think it will not be long before they are asked to leave the state regardless."

"Good."

"Maybe, maybe not. They will be offended, and the Queen does not want war."

"And that's a real possibility? I mean Arkansas can reasonably take on Louisiana?"

"They are poor, but they are not without assets. We have more vampires, mostly because of New Orleans, but for fighters the margin is slimmer. She must go carefully."

"And you too," I said suddenly. "If it's a frontal attack, I mean. You're the closest."

"There is that. I admit, when I first woke and sensed you far to the north, I worried that somehow they had found you. "

"Is that why you came to Splendide?

"I was relieved when I realized you were moving closer not farther away, but the thought was fresh in my mind. If an enemy, knew of you and our... _association_..."

His voice trailed off. I was still sprawled on top of Eric, with his arms around me, and his penis snug between my thighs. I'd been deliberately not giving the name to what was going on between us, but you can bet your bottom dollar that if I had to choose something, it would not have been "association."

I slid away from him and turned on to my back. He followed, curling on his side and pressing a hand over my belly, which I pushed away. My not-exactly-flat stomach was just one too many insecurities to be dealing with at the moment.

The question was out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Would that work?"

He was cautious. "Would what work?"

I lifted my eyebrows at him, unwilling to respond when I was sure he already knew the answer to the question he posed. It was with a little stab of sorrow that I realized I was being a bit of a hypocrite.

"Forget it," I said. "This is nice. I don't want to ruin it." Too late. "Let's just go back about three minutes. Be sweet and tell me again how you were worried and rushed right over."

Eric's hand found its way back to my stomach where he rubbed light circles. He was watching me warily now. I didn't really like that expression on his face.

"I did worry, and I wanted to see you."

"I didn't mean to be gone so long," I admitted. "I should have been back before dark. I just got so distracted."

"Does it happen often that you are sent out like this?" he asked.

"It's not incredibly common, but not unusual. Brenda might have given me more warning if she weren't angry with me, but we can't really ignore tips when we get them."

"And you always travel with one of the guards?"

I laughed. "No, not usually. Ghellert just decided to follow, which was a good thing. I'd probably still be sitting in the woods in Arkansas staring at the fairy light."

"Next time, you should take Tray," he advised.

I breathed out a heavy sigh. I did not want to think about Tray, and the look he had informed me that he was about to push the subject. "What's the deal with this Bill Compton guy?" I asked, once again not bothering to hide the abrupt change of subject.

"As you heard, he is looking to move in to my territory. I'll be obliged to grant his request."

"I meant, what is he like? What do you know about him?"

He leaned back a little, but didn't take his hand off my abdomen. The motion was soothing, now that I was used to it.

"He is maybe one hundred fifty, and from this area originally. He was a soldier when he was alive, and he is said to be a decent fighter now. He was living in Seattle when I met him, maybe ninety years ago. As you heard, he has just come into this inheritance. He intends to live mainstream, whilst reporting on all of my doings to Sophie-Anne."

"Is he dangerous?"

"He is a vampire," Eric said, quirking that sardonic brow at me.

"You know what I mean. You're not all the same."

"I suppose he is not what you would consider dangerous. I doubt he will sneak into the house and gobble up your granny, if that is your concern."

"No, that's the big bad _wolf_," I quipped back. "The big bad _vampire_ glamours granny to get information about the Sheriff's _associate._"

"I'm sure you will warn Mrs. Stackhouse not to invite him inside," Eric said. He sounded a little too indifferent.

Glamouring innocent humans was not allowed, but in terms of laws it seems to be the vampire equivalent of jaywalking. Which they also do.

"So, a valid concern then," I said.

"There are always many concerns, lover, but at the moment I can think of only one that requires our immediate attention."

Eric tightened his arms around me and began to kiss my neck again. His tongue flicked at that certain spot which, whether by coincidence or his design, made me forget about everything but what he was doing. My leg hitched on his hip as he settled over me. We had not yet gotten particularly adventurous in our lovemaking, but I felt confident that sooner or later, I would find myself involved in many acrobatic feats in the bedroom. For now, I followed Eric's lead, and he seemed perfectly content to stick to the old standards. I decided they were probably cliché for a very good reason as he began to rub the length of himself against me.

Our mutual murmurs and moans continued as he revved up my engine until I was ready to beg for more, but he didn't make me. He seemed to know the exact moment to push inside, when I thought I couldn't stand him not being there for another second. His fingers slicked against me, teasing and circling and never stopping. My moment came quickly, and I didn't fall. I _flung_ myself forward, arching into him as he covered my mouth with his, devouring my exultant cry.

My shivers didn't stop as I came back to my senses. His steady rhythm and the cold press of his skin against me, his mouth on my chest, kept me lingering at the height of my pleasure. I don't know where I found the strength to wrap myself around him, to move against him, but I did. When he finally hastened his stride I watched in awe when Eric's face froze with his mighty bellow, his fangs out and his eyes shut tight. He came back to me murmuring things he knew I could not understand, as he held me close against him.

I dozed for a while after that, delighting every time I stirred and again became aware of his presence next to me, until he wasn't there.

It was late. I was very tired, but I forced myself awake. I heard the water turn off in the bathroom. Eric didn't have any "human needs" to attend to in there, but I've noticed that he's a little fastidious about cleanliness. I yawned. Thanks to my DVD box set on the history of the Vikings, I could assume that habit was long ingrained. He'd gotten defensive on the video when addressing his people's common depiction as unwashed barbarians. Vikings were actually ahead of their time where personal hygiene was concerned.

I got up, ready to find a pair of socks and a nightgown. While I was setting myself to rights, I realized he hadn't fed from me. I'd slid a pair of panties on, and he caught me with my leg propped up on the bed as I tried to examine my inner thighs to make sure I hadn't missed it. It's easy to lose all track of things while he is down there.

"You make it difficult for me to leave," he said. Out of context, I suppose it was a pretty lurid pose. He was at my side stroking my thigh, but I quickly settled my foot on the floor again.

"You didn't feed."

"I fed deeply from you when we were in New Orleans. You will become ill again if I take too much too often," he explained. "With you, it is very tempting to want too much."

I smiled at the awkward compliment and asked, "Should I heat you up some synthetic before you go?"

"No need. I had supper before I arrived."

I stepped back from him. Did he mean...? In the same night?

"Well then, I guess you need to get going," I said breezily, suddenly a lot more awake and wondering where the hell my robe had gone. I found it on the bathroom floor where he had left it and whipped it on, cinching the waist with undo force. He was still standing in the same position near the bed, looking confused as to what had just happened.

He must have meant he'd already drank bottled blood. Fangtasia was still closed after all, and I assumed that was where most of his "meals" came from. Unless he ordered a blood donor. They have those. Blood donors-slash-prostitutes, or prostitutes that specialize in vampire clientele, which amounts to the same thing. Would he have someone like that come to his house? _I'd_ never even been to his house!

He's a vampire. Obviously he has to eat. It's not like I don't know this. True, I haven't spent any time thinking about it. Even if I had, it's not like Eric and I agreed to any amount of exclusivity.

"Sookie," Eric began. I forgot he can tell when I'm upset.

"Eric, it's fine," I said briskly. It wasn't fine. "Now, you're a busy vampire, and I've got work in the morning, so you better get along. I'm sure I'll see you soon."

"Sookie, what is happening here?"

"That's the question, isn't it," I muttered.

He caught me by the arm, not hard, but securely enough to turn me to face him again. His expression was mixed between concern, confusion, and irritation.

"Look, Eric, I don't think I've really thought this through."

"You no longer wish to have sex with me?"

"What? No! That's not what I was saying." Was it? Was that all we were doing? It sure didn't feel like it.

"You enjoy it." He had every reason to sound certain.

"Of course I enjoy it."

"Then what is your problem?"

"Look Eric, it's late, and it's way too soon in," I gestured back and forth between us, "whatever this is, to be having this kind of conversation. I just got a little tense at the thought that you'd also ah, _enjoyed_, someone else before coming over, that's all."

He let go of my arm and studied me. I wanted him to speak, but was equally worried I wouldn't like what he had to say.

"You have been foremost in my thoughts since I rose tonight," he said.

"Thank you," I said, honestly grateful for that measure of reassurance. "That's good to know."

It was. It didn't exactly answer the question of whether or not he'd tapped a keg of fangbanger upon rising, but at least he was thinking of me if he did. How sweet.

"But I was not foremost in yours."

"What?"

I think about Eric all the time.

"You were with the eagle."

Why did he sound like he was accusing me of something?

"For work!"

"He did not _stalk_ you all the way to Arkansas _for work_, Sookie."

"Yes, he did."

Eric gave me a scathing look, as if he couldn't decide whether I was a bad actress, or just too stupid for words.

"Is that was this was about tonight?" I asked, and I could hear the outrage in my voice. "You just came back here to stake your claim?"

Without denying it, Eric said coolly, "I think you were right. It is not the time to be having this conversation between us." He mocked my earlier gesture.

"I think it's time for you to leave," I said, very quietly.

The pictures in the hall rattled with the force of the front door slamming, and it was a long couple of minutes before I followed to flip the deadbolt and shut out the lights.

How had that gone so wrong so fast?

I threw on an old t-shirt and got into bed. I should have changed the sheets first, but I was just too tired.

First thing in the morning I stripped off the bed and then got into the shower, taking care to scrub every inch of me. I was still mad. That wasn't quite right. I was frustrated, sad, hurt, anxious, indignant, and irritated. That about summed it up.

I wasn't in the kind of state to be around another living soul, and my best hope was that I could get into work without running into anyone and having to pretend that I wasn't on the verge of angry tears. What did I expect, anyway? That Eric would be my sweetheart? That he would fall over himself to proclaim his love for me, assuring me with sincerity that it had nothing at all to do with my blood or my ability?

As I passed the front of the building and turned into the parking lot, I saw Tray was on duty. He was wearing a heavy weighted coat and surrounded by wisps of steam from his breath and the cup of hot coffee he was holding. Just great.

He got the door for me as I hurried inside, but I didn't move fast enough to prevent him getting a big whiff of me. I guess I hadn't scrubbed hard enough. Unfortunately for Tray, a stray thought filtered through my shield as I passed by.

_...Sheriff's... Fangbanger..._

I stopped in my tracks.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"What?"

"You know exactly what," I said, with a meaningful glare. "Keep your nasty thoughts to yourself. I don't come to work to be insulted."

"I didn't say a thing to you," Tray grumbled.

I got right in his face.

"You don't have to _say it_," I reminded him. "You've been glaring at me for days, and I'm sick of it. You probably saved my life, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for what you did, but I am sorry that it ever happened. I am sorry you were involved. I am sorry you took a job without understanding exactly what you were getting into, and I am sorry that it ended the way it did. For both of us." I took a breath and then continued on my hushed tirade. "But you need to stop being so angry with me. I didn't invite it, I didn't force you into anything, and you are _not_ the only person around here who is left trying to cope."

Tray gave me a hard stare which I met in equal measure, but when he said nothing, I stomped past him and went inside, sparing only a nod and a tight smile for Holly on my way downstairs.

I was grateful to have work that could so entirely consume my attention to the banishment of other thoughts. It was well after I would normally have gone to lunch when Brenda came downstairs.

She hovered by the door with her arms folded across her chest in a defensive stance.

"How did it go yesterday?"

Evidently we would be taking the "pretend it never happened" road. Honestly? I was grateful. I wasn't up for another confrontation.

"I found some good stuff," I began, but had to interrupt myself. "Crap. I left a couple of things in my car. I meant to bring them in this morning. We got back right before the vault lock down and only got the most valuable stuff inside."

"What did they have?"

"A bunch of little stuff you can probably put on auction to the local packs, maybe even Special Events, and a will-o'-the-wisp."

"Really?" She was excited, and I gave her a little smile.

"Really."

"Did you bring your receipts?"

"I have them. I'll turn them in when I come back from lunch, after I get the rest of it checked into the vault."

"Why don't you go now? I was actually coming down to tell you that I need you for a client meeting this afternoon."

"Appraisal?"

"They're buying," she informed me. "It would help if you were on hand to answer questions."

"What kind of people?" I asked. "What are they looking for?"

"Weres, and, some kind of tribute I think. The tone of the conversation was very, 'we'll make it worth your while,' hence zero advance notice. They only just scheduled."

I nodded. Money talks. I wasn't dressed for meeting clients. Brenda didn't suggest that I should go home and change, so I decided not to worry about it.

"Can I ask a favor?" She raised her eyebrows. "Not the will-o'-the-wisp, okay? I would greatly appreciate it if that one went to auction, so others can have a chance to bid on it."

Yes, I'm supposed to be neutral, but I really wanted the 'wisp to go to fairy hands. I planned to tell Niall about it. He'd be interested. I was also eager to tell him how it had reacted to me, which would please him. It would be nice to have a normal conversation with my great grandfather. It seemed like forever since we'd had one, not counting Christmas.

"That's fine. It's not cataloged yet anyway, right?"

"No, it isn't. I'm actually not sure I'll be able to do it. We might need to send it to Mr. Hob."

"It's dangerous?"

"Sort of. They're designed to be mesmerizing, in the true sense of the word. Hypnotic, almost. Ghellert wasn't affected, but humans are, and from what I've heard, vampires are. I'm a little wary of trying to examine it again myself."

Brenda agreed that we could send it out, with the caveat that she'd like to have a look first, just for the sake of reference. She'd never seen one before. She couldn't fool me. It was a very neat find. She concluded our very civil conversation by nudging me out the door to lunch.

The little diner was practically empty, but rather than take a table to myself, I sat at the counter with my back to the door. I ordered a crock of French onion soup and a big fat cheeseburger with a side of fried pickles. We were definitely not counting calories today.

The waitress brought my coke almost immediately, then hustled around the counter to seat a group of three Weres who had just come in. Apart from the cook, she seemed to be the only one working. That's got to be a tough job.

One of the Weres was in a foul mood, broadcasting his displeasure very clearly. I was in public, so of course I was shielding, but some thoughts just want to be heard, even from brains that are usually quite hazy.

_Great big inconvenience when it's all just for show._

I let my mental barrier down a bit more, just for curiosity's sake. It didn't take but a moment to realize that these Weres were the same ones who had an appointment at Splendide this afternoon. They were all thinking of the building they'd passed on their way here. They had time to kill, so just like me, they were grabbing a late lunch.

The waitress left them with menus and then returned with my soup, piping hot and savory delicious. I should have ignored the group behind me and dug in to enjoy every decadent bite. Instead, I found myself picking at the melted cheese distractedly while I listened to them decide on their orders. Just when I was ready to chastise myself for failing to enjoy my meal in favor of snooping, they started to talk.

"Seriously, what are we even supposed to do in there?" said the first voice. I was pretty sure he was the broadcaster.

"Spend a lot of Threadgill's money. That's all there is to it," said the second voice.

"Yeah, but on what?"

"Doesn't matter. Whatever looks good."

"Fucking waste. He's going to kill her anyway, I don't see why he has to bother."

"Keep your goddamn voices down," said a third voice, and instantly, all of their attention shifted to me, or at least the back of me. One of them must have pointed. I was the only customer sitting near them.

"Peggy?" I called to the waitress, glad to have read her name tag. She spun around from her position wiping glasses. "Could I have another napkin when you get the chance?"

"Sure, sugar."

See, a person who had just overheard others discussing a murder plot definitely wouldn't call attention to themselves like that, I reasoned. I'm just a gal, enjoying a hot meal on a cold day, completely oblivious. La di dah, nothing to see here.

"Here you go, hun," Peggy said, and our fingers brushed for just a moment as I took the proffered napkins.

_Jay Cee! I didn't just hear that. Knew they looked like trouble. Dressed so nice, but they look like thugs. Monkeys in suits!_

"Need anything else?" she asked.

"No thanks," I said, returning her weak smile. Our eyes met briefly.

_She heard it too. Keep your head down, blondie._

"Your burger'll be right up," Peggy said, and hightailed it to the kitchen.

She must have waited back there until it was done, because the guys behind me got antsy, muttering about where she'd gone. She'd forgotten to take their orders before vanishing.

By the time my food arrived, I'd lost my appetite, so I just picked as I listened. The guys were bitching about the drive they'd had to make to get here, and how late they'd be getting home. The mention of Threadgill was all I needed to understand they'd come from Arkansas, probably driven down the same highway that I had yesterday.

"Too bad we can't stay to see the fallout with blondie," came Voice Number One.

Was he talking about me?!

"Keith. For the last time. Shut. The hell. Up."

_Asshole's going to take all the credit too, you just watch, _the chief complainant thought.

I had to get out of there.

I signaled for Peggy and quietly asked for the check.

"Eyes bigger than your stomach, huh?" she teased, gesturing to my completely untouched cheeseburger. "Want me to put that in a box for ya hun?"

"That'd be great, thanks." I said. It would be more obtrusive to run out leaving a whole meal behind.

The waitress whisked my plate away while I sat there keeping calm. There were too few people here for me to go completely unnoticed. I knew from their brains that apart from the waitress and a bunch of empty booths, I was the only thing to look at. Thankfully, the only view they were getting was my back. I paid the check, leaving a generous tip, and walked quickly out to my car and then floored it in the direction of home.

I tossed the rest of my lunch in the fridge and ran back to my bedroom. None of them had seen my face. Two of them were harder to read, but I'd gotten no sense of recognition from any of the Weres. The woman in the diner had been just another stranger to them.

I had no idea what I had done to draw the attention of people working for the King of Arkansas, unless... Was this about the appraisal? It wasn't my fault the thrysus was a fake! Hadn't they ever heard that you don't kill the messenger?

I remembered then that Eric had been worried from the start. What hadn't he told me?

I kicked off my tennis shoes, peeled off my jeans and sweater, and pulled on a navy blue suit with navy pumps. I almost never wore this. Pant suits may work for Hillary Clinton, but they do not work for Sookie Stackhouse. I freed my hair from its loose ponytail only to wind it back into a severe bun, sticking in bobby pins to secure the flyaways. I put on my demon necklace, tucking it under my plain white shell, then added a strand of fake pearls, and some pearl stud earrings. As a final step, I put on some bright lipstick and eye shadow and then doused myself in perfume.

The shoes made me taller, and I certainly looked a far cry from the casual diner they'd seen. I brushed my teeth and scrubbed my hands free of any lingering scent of my food. In twenty minutes flat, I was driving back to work. I kept the window open and the cold air helped to quell the flush of exertion I'd worked up with my lightning quick wardrobe change.

Tray was still outside when I reached the building. It was probably warm enough in the sun, provided the wind didn't blow.

My face must have been a picture, because his own expression shifted from wary to curious as I approached. Either was an improvement on his recent disdain.

"Listen," I said, without preamble. "There's three Weres from out of town coming in pretty soon, and they're trouble with a capital T."

"Okay..."

"If you could come inside when they get here, that'd be good. And don't be afraid to hover. Is your gun loaded?"

He looked shocked, but he had learned to take me seriously. That was all I needed.

"Yeah..."

"Good. Hopefully whatever bad they're planning to do won't be done here, but I'm not taking chances. There's too much going on in this city right now to ignore a threat. You get me?" I asked.

"I get you. What do you know about these guys?"

"Only what I heard them bragging at lunch. They're from Arkansas, and they're in with the vamps."

"Shit."

"You betcha."

"Go on inside," Tray said, pulling the door open with one hand, but already turned to survey the street.

Holly greeted me with a wave and a confused grin as she took in my changed appearance.

"Clients coming today," I grimaced.

"Must be important," she smiled.

"Brenda's hoping for a big sale," I agreed.

"I'll put on a fresh pot of coffee," said the receptionist, and then tapped a few buttons on her phone, either to forward any incoming calls to the break room or send them to voicemail so she could step away from her desk in good conscience.

I popped into Brenda's office to let her know that I was back from lunch, but decided not to give her the heads up. It wouldn't be helpful if both of us were acting tense and weird.

I just needed to get through the meeting, doing my best to pick their brains, and hope I could stave off whatever bad was coming until I had a better handle on the situation. What kind of "fallout" did I need to expect?

I was glad I'd gotten so much done that morning. I couldn't concentrate on anything more involved than the simple cleanup I did to keep my hands busy.

What was the connection between the King of Arkansas and these Weres? The simple truth was that despite their general dislike, a lot of powerful vampires seem to employ the werewolves to be their eyes, ears, and hands during the daytime. Why should the King of Arkansas be any different? The practice made sense. If you're looking for someone strong and competent to act in your stead, a shapeshifter is a good bet.

It wasn't long later that I was perched next to Brenda at the bad suit convention taking place in the parlor. Peggy the waitress had been pretty accurate in her observation. These men were dressed up, and it was clear they weren't any more comfortable in their fancy clothes than I was in mine.

Brenda was leafing through the large three ring binder which contained our Eyes Only inventory, pondering what to show them first.

"When we spoke on the phone earlier, you mentioned looking for a gift for a person of esteem? May I ask who we're buying for?"

"We're here on behalf of Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas," said the Were I recognized as the third voice from the diner, the no nonsense one, who'd been introduced as Gary Cole. He was maybe in his late thirties, with a full, bristly beard touched with grey around the chin, and a full head of dark hair. His eyebrows were on the bushy side but he had bright green eyes. He had rugged handsomeness down to a T. His buddies, not so much.

The one named Keith had a ruddy complexion and ash blonde hair that seemed too light for his skin tone. The pale eyebrows and the roundness in his face made him look almost boyish, and not in a pleasant way.

The other guy, Randall, or Randy, as he'd bid us call him, was medium height, with the kind of thick musculature that hadn't been sculpted at the gym. He most definitely had a job that was physically intensive. He'd been chatty right along with Keith at the diner, but now he was quiet and tense. He reminded me of a powder keg, lots of barely contained power.

"Evidently the King presented a gift to his betrothed that turned out to be a fake. He is eager to replace it, and is given to understand that your credentials here are unsurpassed," Gary said, with a smile at Brenda. She nodded and returned his smile. I think she may even have batted her eyelashes a couple of times.

So Peter Threadgill was replacing the thrysus with something that would definitely pass muster. It was crucial that he keep Sophie-Anne's favor.

This trio thought the marriage plan was stupid, but I could see that it wasn't. If he married her before he killed her, or probably more accurately, orchestrated her death, then he would inherit all her assets, including the state of Louisiana. If he just tried to murder her, he'd have a tougher time of it, just in terms of basic access, and he might not be successful. I'm not sure if the Queen is a fighter, but she is really old, and that makes her really strong.

If he did succeed in killing her outright, he still wasn't guaranteed her throne, because if the rest of Louisiana's vampires chose not to accept him, he'd have war on his hands that he was by no means guaranteed of winning.

The marriage-death-inheritance plan was a little convoluted, but it was sound. The only mystery was how Sophie-Anne wouldn't see it coming. Maybe she planned to kill him first? Pull a switcheroo? Beat him at his own game?

Why couldn't these people just be happy with what they had and leave each other alone?

I zoned out while Brenda began to discuss their budget and they delved in to the catalog. I was glad that Gary and Brenda seemed to be hitting it off, because of the three, Gary's mind was the most opaque. While the two of them were involved in the perusal, I was felt free to pick the other two brains in the room, which were just as unfocused on the artifacts as I was at the moment.

Now that I had a clear view of it, the only thing bothering me was how I fit into the landscape. Yes, my appraisal had probably thrown a big wrench into Threadgill's plans, but did it really merit retaliation?

I replayed the conversation I'd overheard at the diner.

To my meager credit, it was _before_ I caught the flash of Eric in Keith's mind that it _finally_ occurred to me that I wasn't the only blonde in Shreveport. I felt the swell of embarrassment wash over me.

The next time someone called me out for being paranoid, I was going to have to let it slide.

"Sookie?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I said are you feeling alright?" Brenda asked. "You look flushed."

"I'm...yeah. It's warm."

"Could you give Gary a little background information on the cherubim? We're looking at the arrow."

It was like she'd flipped my 'on' switch, as I heard myself begin to talk about the difference between cherubim and angels, and the many other creatures they were lumped in with and commonly mistaken for just because of some idiot's poor translation of the Bible a bunch of centuries ago.

"But basically it's a cupid's arrow, although there's some misconception there as well. I don't know how much you know about fae, but I assure you - when they arm themselves, it's not for the purpose of spreading _love_."

All four of them were staring at me by the time I finished. What?

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "It's probably not the best gift anyway."

"And why is that?" Gary asked.

"Um. It's an _arrow._ Essentially a projectile stake? Might be sending the wrong message there."

My boss cleared her throat and quickly found another item to offer.

Of course by now Keith had moved on to thinking of something he would miss on television tonight.

_No way I'll be home. Won't get on the road until after sundown._

"If you're interested specifically in items specifically of vampire legacy, I can show you some of our other books. We can arrange delivery to anywhere."

"Unfortunately Brenda, we need to find something this afternoon. The King expects us back in Little Rock tonight, with his gift in hand. We need to be on the road before dusk."

Gary, Gary quite contrary.

Whatever their plan, it's going into effect right after sunset then. I supposed that we were meant to be their alibi. I glanced at the little clock on the table. Three thirty. The sun sets just after five. They were going to have to make a decision soon if they hoped to have their business done. The closer we get, the more they'll be thinking about whatever they're going to do.

They didn't. As the minutes ticked by it became more and more maddening that they refused to think more about their plan. This is why vampires tie people to chairs and beat them until they get information.

Whoa.

I did not just empathize with torturers. Well, okay, yes I did, but that was a sick thought, and I didn't mean it. I needed to keep my cool.

I started to question myself. I'd already taken one wild leap in the wrong direction today. Was I doing it again? Should it really matter to me if something happens to Eric anyway? Maybe if he found himself in serious trouble, he'd throw out the fairy telepath like a get out of jail free card. No. He wouldn't do that to me, even though we were in a fight right now. Is that what that was last night? Just a garden variety lovers' quarrel?

Tim McGraw started to sing about skydiving and Rocky Mountain climbing. I looked up, terribly confused. Brenda did the same. Randy was scrambling at his inside coat pocket, trying to fish something out of the lining with his fat, stubby fingers. I was sure Mr. McGraw would have given up living like he was dying before this Were managed to answer his phone.

"Yeah?" he said, jumping up, and pacing quickly out of the room. "Right.." I heard him say as his voice receded beyond my hearing. I glanced to the door where I could see Tray, just where I'd asked him to be. I gave him a meaningful look and he backed off a few paces in the direction of Randy. Maybe he'd catch something.

"Sorry for him," Gary chuckled smoothly. "I told him to keep that damn thing on vibrate. Pardon my French."

"Not a problem. What do you think about one of the amulets?"

"I thought maybe the ring you showed me. Kinda traditional."

"You understand that we make no guarantees regarding protective magics which these objects are rumored by lore to possess?" she said quickly.

_Matter of fact lady, we're just about counting on it not working._

Keith again. He was pretty smug. Ugly inside and out.

"I understand, but I think it may be the right sentiment," Gary said, with a nod to me that I answered with a tight smile.

"Shall I bring a few things up?" I asked Brenda. It was the first time in the meeting that I'd offered something without direct prompting, and my boss managed an approving smile.

"Please."

I walked out quickly, widening my eyes at Tray, conveying that we had more to discuss. It took only a minute to pull on gloves and fill a small tray with a few pieces of protective jewelry. It's true we make no guarantees. Most of these things are essentially no more than good luck charms, but they can be effective. I figured Louisiana's Queen could probably use some good luck in the coming days.

Tray was in the empty hallway outside the parlor, but we couldn't talk here without risking being overheard. He had something to tell me too. Thankfully, I had the perfect excuse.

I set down the jewelry for Gary and Brenda to look over, but I didn't take my seat.

"Brenda, I've just remembered that I need to get those things from yesterday out of my car, and get those receipts turned in to Holly before the close of business. Would you mind terribly if I took care of that now?"

She told me that was fine, so outside I went and Tray was smart enough to follow.

"What'd you get?" Tray murmured, as soon as we were outside.

"It's something to do with Eric. Earlier they were talking about the fallout. They're not gonna hurt him, I think maybe they're trying to set him up? It's happening right after sunset. What'd _you_ get?"

"They were talking about that casino, the Trifecta? He said some numbers. Room number maybe? 503, 504."

"The Queen's vamps were staying there," I said.

"Far as I know, it's the only place in town that offers decent vampire accommodations. They've got a whole floor."

"That means high security, right?"

"At least until sundown," Tray corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"No need for security once the vamps are up. Come the evening the floor's as open as any other. People can come and go. Maids, room service, whoever."

"Huh. I bet it's Weres who guard it during the daytime, right?"

Tray nodded. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure. I'd say they were going to attack the Queen's vampires, but that doesn't exactly fall in line with the rest of this clever scheming. It's too blatant."

"It would spark a war."

"Right, but King Arkansas seems to be bending over backwards to stay in good graces. He doesn't want a war."

"Call Eric."

"Yeah. I was going to."

Back inside, I stopped off to see Holly and turn in the paperwork so she could cut me a reimbursement check. I needed to get this in the bank pronto.

I checked everything into the vault, and by the time I got back upstairs it seemed that a decision had finally been made. Queen Sophie-Anne would soon be the owner of a lovely amulet of gold, coral, and opal once worn by a priestess of Oshun, an African love goddess. The goddess is still worshiped by practitioners of Santeria, which is not such a far cry from Voodoo. It was a fitting engagement gift for a woman who made her seat in New Orleans.

The afternoon was fading quickly, and finally I was proved right. The closer we got to lights out, the more these Weres were thinking about the work they had to do once they left Splendide. What shocked me the most was that I didn't get a hint of malevolence. They were focused, steady. It was game time. I could finally piece together what they intended, only because I strained myself to root around. The usual impressions that I get from shapeshifters wouldn't have given a clue that they were plotting villainy.

"Brenda? Do you need me for anything else here?" I asked calmly.

"I think we're all set."

"Would you mind if I left a mite early? I really need to get to the bank before it closes."

"Sure. I'll see you in the morning."

"You will. Let's have lunch tomorrow, kay?" I added casually.

"Yes," Brenda agreed. "We should."

"Gentlemen, so nice to meet you. I think you made an excellent choice," I said, by way of excusing myself.

About three minutes later I was in my car. Eric's phone rang and rang. Finally I was prompted to leave a message.

"Eric it's me, Sookie. Something's wrong. We got three Weres here who work for Peter Threadgill and there's some other stuff I've got to tell you but the important part is that they're on the way to the Trifecta to kill a vamp called Henrik Feith, and honey, I don't know where you went after you left last night, but if you were anywhere around this guy, you need to make a plan, and fast, cause I'm pretty sure they're aiming to blame the whole thing on you."


	30. Vampire Your Own Nest

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy, the beta for this story, is a wonderful woman.

I currently remain without power at home due to Hurricane Sandy, but through some finagling, managed to get this chapter up. This time the lateness is actually beyond my control entirely! Aside from having no power (we're on 5 days now), I am safe and well. A tree fell on my house, which was terribly exciting/scary/inconvenient, but it did no major damage. I have to consider myself lucky. My heart goes out to those who are more affected than I.

I will go ahead and post the summary of this story up until now, which is kind of long. Feel free to skip it if you're not interested. Chapter 30 is posted below it.

* * *

Summary:

Despite her work in and knowledge of the Supe world, Sookie has lived a very isolated life. She provides a service to all variety of supes from within an organization that must remain neutral to keep its business. Publicly, Sookie's supernatural credentials consist only of her being the goddaughter of Mr. Cataliades. Knowledge of her telepathy and her fairy heritage are close secrets.

At the top of the story, Mr. Cataliades, Diantha, Gladiola, Adele, and Niall were the only ones who knew everything. That list has now been nearly doubled to include Eric, Pam, Tray, and Mintah (who owns Splendide). A handful of others know some, but not all: Brenda, Ghellert, Octavia, Louis, and Jason and Hadley. Compared to the books, where at this point in the series Sookie's fame is wide-flung, this remains an incredibly small circle.

Eric is a more communicative version of canon-Eric. He can speak more freely in front of Sookie because unlike in the books, Sookie is already independently accepted as a trustworthy guardian of many of the secrets of the vampire world. Eric finds in Sookie someone with whom he can simply relax and talk to without risk of her exploiting anything he says, since she doesn't want to be involved. This alone would give her value to him, but of course she is much more. No, he doesn't tell her everything. Because _Eric doesn't know everything_.

Trust between Eric and Sookie is built up over a series of events where they help to preserve each other and their respective interests. In the beginning, Sookie was checking in with her sponsor after every interaction she had with Eric. At this point, she is sleeping easy by his side. Neither one of them has experience with this sort of relationship. Eric has had long-term ties with humans before, but never with someone he regarded as approaching an equal, and that's what this is. Sookie may not be Eric's equal in strength, but she certainly is in worth.

In some respects, she is even above him. Sookie is a technically a princess, while Eric is only the lord of a petty fiefdom. Unlike the books, Sookie's relationship to Niall is not a fledgling association that was facilitated by Eric himself. Eric has a very high regard for protocol and power structure, and as such does not dismiss her status as royalty-in-exile, i.e., still royalty. More and longer exposure has brought out more of her fae qualities, but opportunities to independently connect with the fairy part of herself have remained few. The fairy connection has dictated the way that she lives her life, but at the same time, it's something she has to hide from.

In the books, Sookie is strongly anchored to her human life, only occasionally straddling the fence between that world and the supernatural. Here, Sookie skates along the thin line, too afraid to really put a foot down on either side. She might be drastically more informed, but this only leaves her with a different problem set. Sookie doesn't suffer from financial hardship, and she isn't intellectually under-stimulated in her daily life. What she does lack is solid ties to practically anything.

She doesn't have Bon Temps, and Gran's house, and a bar full of friends committed to pulling off a surprise party for the telepath. It's harder and harder for Sookie to stay connected to her family, and worse still is the fact that she believes this is probably for the best. Sookie has lived her adult life anticipating and preparing for the moment when she'll have to flee from discovery by people who will want to use her, harm her, or both.

Eric has the potential to be something that grounds her. He can provide her safety and permanence, but in order for that to happen, their relationship has to consist of more than his ability to bring her off. He has to be something that she can't walk away from.

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Chapter 30 – Vampire Your Own Nest

I didn't stop trying to call Eric after I'd left the message. He can rise a bit before the sun actually sets. He should be up any minute, so why wasn't he answering, damnit? Did he turn his phone off while he slept? I hadn't noticed.

I drove right past my bank, which of course was already closed. I'd never intended on stopping there. I mentally cursed every other car on the road and every stop light until I finally pulled into the sprawling parking lot of the Trifecta Hotel and Casino.

The tall hotel building was the front face of the resort. Our strange laws dictate that the actual gambling can only take place on the water, so a boat was permanently moored on the Red River out back. It seems a little outmoded, but the riverboat gambling gives cities like Shreveport or Tunica some distinction over places like Las Vegas or Atlantic City. I could appreciate the idea of old-fashioned charm.

The lights were already blazing. It got real pretty up here by the water at dusk, not that I took the time to admire it today. I wasn't more than a few minutes ahead of the trio of Weres I'd left at Splendide. They'd been wrapping up when I left. I couldn't count on more than ten minutes' lead. Maybe fifteen, given I knew better how to avoid the traffic, whereas they were in an unfamiliar city.

I didn't have much of a plan, but I didn't believe I needed one. I knew the target, the intention, and I was pretty sure I knew in which room this Henrik guy was staying. I just needed to go upstairs and warn him not to answer the door for anybody else, and then scram.

If he asked questions, I'd just say I overheard it at lunch, which was practically the whole truth.

Tray had gotten the numbers 503 and 504. When I stepped into the elevator and saw that the button for floor five was shaded red, I figured I was on the right track. That was the vampire floor.

I lost phone service inside. I was looking down waiting for my little bars to reappear so I could redial Eric for the thirtieth time when the doors swung open. I felt the minds of people waiting to board the elevator there, so I stepped out quickly.

"Halt!"

It wasn't other passengers waiting. Two armed Weres stood blocking the hall that lead back to the guest rooms. One of them had his service rifle leveled at me. I put my hands up in surrender.

"This floor is closed. What's your business here?"

It was the other one who spoke. I was all too happy to turn my attention away from the gun. I'd about had it up to here with people pointing guns at me.

"I'm supposed to meet someone," I stammered.

I knew two things for certain. First, Randy, Gary, and Keith had all been envisioning a quick in and out. Second, someone, probably working at the hotel, had supplied Randy with the room numbers. I didn't know if these guards could be trusted, and I surely didn't want to stick around to answer a bunch of questions that would inevitably include who I was, and exactly how I knew what I claimed.

"Name?" the Were demanded.

Shoot. My name? No. He was asking who I was here to see. Just in case he did turn up dead, I wasn't about to say "Henrik Feith." Think. Think. I went for the only other name I knew for certain was on the guest registry.

"Bill Compton?"

The rifle would have to excuse the quaver in my voice.

The Were strode forward, and for a split second I thought he was about to seize me. Instead, he pushed the call button and gave the other man a nod over his shoulder to indicate he could stand down.

The elevator was still on the floor, and the doors swung open immediately.

"Come back in ten minutes," he said brusquely. "You can put your hands down."

He guided me back into the car, leaning in to hit the button that would return me to the ground floor. I nodded, lowering my arms and mumbling an apology as he stepped off. He gave me a nod in return as the doors swung shut again. I exhaled sharply once I started to descend.

Well, that was a fun experience.

The lobby was seeing steady traffic as evening settled in. Hotel guests were heading out to dinner, or filtering back in from spending the afternoon at the casino. It seemed busier now than it had been even a couple minutes ago. Damn it. I was losing time. With more people coming and going, I couldn't just dawdle in front of the elevator bank. I strode across the lobby looking for all the world like I had purpose. Noting the discreet little sign, I headed down the hall in the direction of the coffee shop, the gym, and, aha. Yes. The stairs.

The garish décor vanished along with the hum of music and the murmur of voices. The buzz of minds seemed more distant too as the echo of the heavy door slamming behind me echoed up the empty stairwell. It was well lit, and completely nondescript. I had no illusions that there wouldn't be another guard waiting on the vamp floor. I stepped out of my pumps and hoofed it up to floor four.

Taking a quick look around the vacant corridor, I was pleased to find the nearest door was marked 401. Hopefully the next floor up was set up like this one and I would come out exactly where I needed to be. I'd see for sure just as soon as the hazy brain I could detect right above me moved off. I knew it was a male, but that was pretty much all I could detect, apart from maybe the general weariness that any working person feels toward the end of the day.

It didn't take long. Not more than another minute or two and the shapeshifter was moving away down the hall in the direction of the elevators. I was surprised he didn't take the stairs himself.

My little rest had given me the opportunity to catch my breath after my jog up the stairs, but my heart hadn't stopped racing. I could hear it.

I went up, and let myself silently on to the vampire corridor. I was allowed to be here now, but knowing that didn't stop the impulse to creep along like some kind of burglar. There was a security camera positioned unobtrusively in the corner of the ceiling above the door leading to the stairs. I couldn't help but notice the wire dangling disconnected. Yes. Definitely something fishy going on here.

I tapped lightly on door 503, and then stopped. In the silence of the hall I could hear the elevator chime as the small battalion of daytime guards left the floor. I felt free to knock a little louder, and to drop my shields entirely.

There were human minds above and below, but they were distant, like people murmuring around the edges of a large room where I occupied the center, along with these vampire voids. There was one in the room in front of me.

Knock knock knock knock. I got a little more adament.

"Hello?" I called. "Mr. Henrik Feith?"

Knock knock knock. I darted across the hall and knocked on the other door, 504.

"Hello?" I said again, louder.

"Hello?" Came a voice from behind me.

"Hello?" Came a voice from down the hall.

"Sookie?" Came Eric's voice, in rapid crescendo as he moved toward me in a blink.

Door 503 was still closed, but someone had spoken from behind it. Eric was standing very close. Beyond him, I saw a Mr. Bill Compton leaning out of his doorway with an inquiring look on his face. Evidently I made more of a commotion than intended. Now everybody was up.

Eric spun around once he saw me looking down at Bill. He stepped backwards, forcing me closer against the wall, and stood there with me behind his back like a little kid concealing a broken dish.

"Is everything alright, Sheriff?"

"Everything is fine, Bill."

I poked Eric in the back. Everything was _not_ fine, and we really didn't have time for vampire posturing. He turned around again and held his hands on either side of my arms as he bent slightly to look me in the eye.

"Sookie, what are you doing here?"

I would ask him the same thing, along with why the heck he hadn't answered his phone or checked his messages, but that would have to be later.

"There are three werewolves coming here to kill a vampire named Henrik Feith. I don't know why you're here, but I'm guessing that's part of it, because their plan is for you to take the blame. We have to keep him safe."

Eric didn't ask how I knew this, and he didn't ask "are you sure?" He stared at me for a just a second before striding over to Henrik's door and pounding on it with an authoritative fist.

"This is the Sheriff of Area Five and I order you to open this door immediately."

The door opened to reveal a small vampire with short brown hair and angular features. He'd been rail thin when he was alive, and with a cursory examination, I guessed that wasn't very long ago. He was focused on Eric.

"Yes?"

"This woman needs to speak to you," Eric told him, and then gestured to me.

"Mr. Feith, I need you to come with me right now. Your life is in danger."

"Who are you?"

"I'm just someone who overheard something and doesn't want to see any innocent people get hurt."

Henrik Feith looked from me to Eric. Suddenly Eric's head whipped around in the other direction.

"Someone is coming from the elevator. We have to go now. Sookie, where are you going to take him?"

"I..." I was just going to tell him not to answer his door.

"In here," came the voice of Bill Compton, where he'd remained listening a few doors down.

Suddenly all three of us were moving, me propelled by Eric with Henrik bringing up the rear. Bill pushed the door shut silently as I felt the three Were brains come into range. My eyes darted to Eric who was looking at me, and I nodded. These were the guys.

"Henrik, who's in 504?" I asked in a hurried whisper.

"Darcy O'Keefe, the other...emissary. Why?"

"They had both room numbers," I said quickly, already walking over to the phone situated on the desk. The room also contained a king-sized bed and a low stand supporting what was presumably Bill's travel-coffin. There was quite a bit of luggage, too. I guess he really was moving in. He'd probably need a U-Haul to get all this out to Bon Temps.

I dialed 504 and from the way all three of their heads snapped to the closed door, I could tell that the vampires were hearing the phone ring down the hall. A woman answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Darcy O'Keefe? Listen, no matter what happens, don't answer your door, okay? The Sheriff will be by in a little while to give you the all clear."

"Who is this?"

"That's not important. You might be in danger. You just need to listen to me. Don't answer your door, no matter what."

"What's going on? Someone just knocked and I heard voices in the hall."

I heard the knocking through the phone and the line when silent. Then where was a soft tap, as she set the phone down. She hadn't hung up, just left the phone on the desk in her own room.

"Darcy, don't let them in," I said again, louder, hoping she would hear.

I strained to listen, and it sounded as though she were talking to whoever was outside. I put my hand over the receiver.

"Can you hear them?" I asked the vampires.

"They are telling her they have a message from their king," Eric answered, with a glance at Henrik.

Eric pressed his hand against Bill's arm, and then gestured to me. Bill, who'd had his ear cocked against the door, came over and took the phone receiver out of my hand to listen.

"She's letting them in," he murmured after a moment.

"What?" I gasped, and then both of them shot me a look. Be quiet. Right. Got it.

It wasn't more than thirty seconds later that Bill closed his eyes and gave a slight shake of the head. Another moment later, and I heard one of the steel doors slam shut out in the hallway. I shivered. Goodbye Darcy, we hardly knew ye.

Eric came over to me then, gesturing Bill back to the door.

"Sookie, who are they?" He spoke softly, and I followed the cue. I clutched my fingers in front of me and took a deep breath.

"They're Weres from Arkansas. They came in today to buy a gift for the Queen to replace the fake, but before that, I was at the diner for lunch and they came in and they were talking. They mentioned killing someone, and then they mentioned you, and they said they wished they could be here to see the fallout. Then later, Tray heard them talking about this hotel, and their room numbers. I tried to call you, but you weren't answering. I didn't know what else to do but come here and try to intercept them."

"How did you know I was here?" Eric asked.

"I didn't, but I think they must have. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I had a meeting last night. I was late to arrive and then it... ran late," he said, taking time to fix Henrik with his stare. His voice got colder and colder as realization dawned. "I did not have time to reach my home before dawn, so I stayed here."

Eric was in front of Henrik before I could blink. In another second, he was behind him, having swung Henrik around so his chest was flush against the wall, his arms wrenched behind his back, held there at the wrists. Eric's other arm was wrapped around Henrik's head in such a way that a single solid jerk would be all it took to rip the vamp's head off.

"Eric don't!" I hissed. "He was their target! If you kill him you're doing exactly what they want!"

"He is the one who detained me," Eric said. His voice too, was low, and deadly. "What were your orders, Henrik?"

"Just...to keep you occupied. To make sure you had to rest here for the day."

"And then?"

"Nothing!" Henrik bleated out. "Nothing! I swear it!"

"Eric." I hoped I sounded soothing. "Eric, they used him. They used him and then they were going to kill him."

"They're at his room now," Bill said helpfully, his ear still pressed to the door. "They are getting agitated that he isn't answering."

Eric released Henrik in such a way that the lesser vampire was flung out of arm's reach. If he were human, Henrik probably would have gone sprawling to the ground, but even meek and comparably weak, Henrik still had the grace and agility of a vampire, and he recovered his balance with barely a stumbled step.

"Should we apprehend them?" Bill asked casually, like someone else might say, "Should we go to the park this weekend?"

Eric gave a nod, but held out his hand in a halt gesture when Bill reached for the door handle.

"Sookie, what do you know about them? What is their dynamic?"

"The one with the beard, Gary, I think he's in charge of the other two. He's the one that kept telling them to shut up. Randy, he's the kind of stocky, dark one. I think he's just muscle, but he's the one that got the phone call about the room numbers. The blonde one, Keith, he talks the most."

"What kind of weapons do they have?" Bill asked.

"How should I know?"

"You seem to know everything else."

"I only know what I heard," I said defensively.

"We'll rush them," Eric interjected. "Bill, you get behind as quickly as possible. Try to leave them intact. We'll want to question them. And no blood, if you can help it."

"Yes, Sheriff," Bill said sycophantically. "Am I to assume then, that you have seen fit to grant my petition?"

"Oh yes." I knew Eric well enough to recognize irritated sarcasm when I heard it. "Congratulations, Bill. Welcome to Area Five. You can call Pam when we are through to schedule your bar hours. Now, are you ready?"

Bill nodded, and then they were gone.

"Did you say Gary?" Henrik asked. "With a beard?" I jumped. He'd been so quiet, and I'd been straining to hear what was happening in the hall.

"Yes. Dark hair, beard, about six foot, solid build. Gary Cole is the name he gave. You know him?"

"He works for my king," Henrik said.

"Maybe time to rethink your loyalties buddy," I muttered.

"Maybe you're right. Or maybe this is all a trick."

I hadn't really expected him to answer back, least of all like that. He didn't really sound confident, but he was making an effort to do so. A trick? Screw him.

"What the heck kind of trick would that be?" I asked hotly.

"You're trying to trick me into betraying my king!"

I rolled my eyes.

"What are you doing here, Henrik? In Shreveport that is. What is it you do for your king."

"I'm here to evaluate the assets of this territory and report back to him to aid in the marriage negotiations."

"Important work. Anything else?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Henrik said haughtily. Originally I had pegged him at being less than fifty years old. Now, I mentally lowered the mark to less than ten. There are humans that lie more convincingly than that. I happen to be one of them.

"And you're here to try to find out what happened to some vampire who went missing in New Orleans, right? So your king can turn up as a big hero? And in the meantime, you do a bit of spying on Eric and his people. That about right? That's a big job, Henrik. You have a lot of experience doing that kind of work?"

It was just a guess, but I was reckoning that he didn't. He was too passive. Too resigned. This guy was a ringer. Henrik Feith didn't seem like the kind of person you send on an important diplomatic task or an investigation. Henrik Feith seemed like... well. He seemed exactly like the kind of guy a vampire king wouldn't mind assassinating if the death would implicate the local sheriff. Henrik Feith seemed expendable.

"I don't have to answer to a human!" Henrik spat.

"No problem. You get to answer to Eric." It was kind of weird being completely not intimidated by a vampire.

"You saved me from him."

"Not for your sake," I said, startling myself with how honest an answer that was.

Henrik backed off then, and took a seat on the bed. I could hear the muffled fighting. The vampires weren't very vocal, but the Weres were. There was pain being inflicted down the hall.

"How many other vampires are staying here?" I asked.

"No one. The other members of Sophie-Anne's court have already gone home."

"That's convenient," I said darkly. "This would have worked. This may still work."

There was a loud thump on the door and I jumped back.

"Open," commanded Eric. I peeked through the keyhole and got an eyeful of the battered face of Gary. He wasn't standing on his own, and one of his eyes was swollen. I didn't think he was fully conscious. I opened the door and stepped back into the recess of the closet so Eric could move past me. Right behind him was Bill, dragging the limp form of Keith. They carried the Weres into the bathroom, dumping them unceremoniously onto the floor.

"Get the other," Eric told Bill, without taking his eyes off the captives. "Sookie, bring me a bed sheet."

I scrambled to do as he asked and found myself shooing Henrik out of the way while I flung the blanket back and yanked the sheet off the bed. I met Bill in the doorway cradling the very deceased corpse of Randy. I froze.

"Sookie, come here," Eric said, and pulled me gently out of Bill's way.

Eric took the sheet from me and began shredding it into thin strips which apparently made a handy substitute for actual rope restraints. He handed me some and ordered me to braid. I wasn't a tenth as quick about it as he was, but it kept my hands busy, and provided a most welcome task to focus on. While Eric began binding the first of the prisoners, Bill shouldered in and deposited the body, now wrapped in the second bed sheet, into the bathtub. He paused to look at me before snapping the curtain closed. Obviously the gesture of concealment was made for my benefit. Very considerate.

Eric ordered him out to keep an eye on Henrik.

Gary wasn't in nearly as bad of shape as Keith. Judging from the position of the towhead's limbs, his arm was broken above the elbow and his knee was dislocated, if not broken. Eric had to set these injuries to rights so he could bind the man. I was somewhat mesmerized by the process.

"What's the plan?" I asked finally.

"We will wait for them to wake up, then find out the details of what they hoped to accomplish here, and confirm that they were working for the King of Arkansas."

"Henrik recognized Gary," I supplied. "And I guess Darcy must have too. What are you going to do about her?"

"She has gone to her final death," Eric said.

"Yeah, I caught that, but I mean, if the plan was for these guys to be found dead, and, she's still dead... probably someone's going to come along and discover that pretty soon, right?"

Eric stopped binding Keith's legs together and turned to glare at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Give me your phone," he demanded.

"Why?"

"Mine is not functioning. I did not have the plug, and the battery must have run out during the day." At least that explained why he didn't answer. "I need to call Pam. We need to leave here."

"How are you going to get these guys out?" I asked, handing over my phone.

Eric studied it for a moment, and then began to dial, ignoring my question.

"Pam...Yes. I need you to bring the van to the Trifecta now. Come to the service entrance, and bring some suitcases or a large trunk. No. Call Sookie's phone when you arrive. Yes. Let Long Shadow handle it. Yes."

Eric pushed the button to end the call and then handed my phone back to me.

"Compton," Eric said, barely louder than he had been talking to Pam.

Bill opened the door right away, though I didn't think he'd been standing right outside.

"Yes, Sheriff?"

"Contact the Queen. Let her know that we interceded a plot to murder the investigators from Arkansas, that we were able to save one of them, and that we have two of the guilty parties in custody."

"Certainly. Is there anything else you would like me to tell her?"

I didn't have to turn around to know that Bill Compton was looking directly at me. Eric was decidedly not.

"Feel free to mention that the information came from Miss Stackhouse. The Queen may wish to express her gratitude. I believe this is the second time this week that Sookie has proven useful to her and her subjects. And find out what she would like us to do with Mr. Feith. Most likely, she will want him brought to her."

"Indeed."

"After that, empty your trunk. You will be checking out and moving to your ancestral home tonight."

"Very well," Bill said.

I tried not to panic as I listened Eric's instructions. It was the most sensible thing to do. Transparency. I hadn't thought this through, at all. I'd been so focused on trying to work out their plan and then trying to prevent it, that I hadn't stopped to consider my place in the aftermath. I felt myself sinking at the same moment that Eric sprung up from the ground and caught hold of me by the hips.

"Sookie, look at me."

I did.

"You did well."

I nodded. Thank you.

"With Henrik alive and with these Weres, we have all the evidence we need."

"What about Darcy?"

"If anything the fact that the other member of the Arkansas party died will further prove the existence of the plot against us."

"I wish she had listened to me," I frowned.

Eric leaned forward and pressed his lips against my forehead. I gripped his shirt with both fists to keep him close to me. I had to ask something I didn't want overheard.

"It is unfortunate she would not heed your warning, but she knew them. She let them in herself," Eric said.

"Will they be there when you question them?" I breathed, far less than a whisper. I meant Bill and Henrik, and Eric seemed to understand that.

"For some," he answered, brushing his lips across my ear. "Will you?"

"Not at the same time." In for a penny, in for a pound – maybe – but not all in. I'd help Eric with his interrogation. We needed the information, and I could probably expedite the process, but I wasn't doing it in front of Bill and Henrik, that was for sure.

Eric nodded in acceptance.

"You and I have a lot to say to each other," I told him, my voice once again rising to an audible level.

"Yes," he agreed, his arms coming around me.

We stayed that way for a minute or two, while the only noise was the dull murmur of Bill speaking on the telephone in the exterior room and the rhythmic breathing of the unconscious Weres. It seemed we'd dropped most of the pretense about the nature of our association in front of the other vampires. If anything, this little pose was playing it up. I understood, as I assumed Eric did, that this little display would put to rest any questions about my presence here, and why I chose to be involved. If I were openly Eric's... then of course I would throw myself in the way of something that had the potential to do him harm.

Come to think of it, there wasn't exactly a lot of lie in that sentiment.

The vampire next to us cleared his throat to gain our attention, and Eric and I snapped our heads to the side in synchronized irritation at having our little moment so disturbed.

Henrik twitched, a slight spasm that I took for the vampire version of a full flinch, but collected himself quickly. "Sheriff, I wanted to thank you, and your woman," he added quickly, "for saving me. I do know these men as Werewolves in the employ of my... of Peter Threadgill. By your leave, I will travel to New Orleans tonight to present myself to your Queen to corroborate what has happened here, and to seek asylum."

Eric straightened, separating us, and regarded Henrik for another moment. "I will arrange for someone from my Area to travel with you in case the King of Arkansas makes any further attempts on your life. No doubt he was expecting word of your demise by now. He is likely already aware that his plan has failed."

Gary started to stir then, letting out a groan stifled by the gag that Eric had stuffed in his mouth. I waited for him to do something to silence the Were, but instead Eric shifted us out of the bathroom, shut the light, and closed the door.

"We will subdue him again before we leave. That way we can be certain of getting them out of the hotel without incident," he explained to my curious expression.

He was just a regular old-hand at this, wasn't he?

"The Queen expects you to contact her once we have moved the prisoners to a more secure location. I trust you have such a facility?" Bill asked of Eric, his eyes flicking to me.

"Yes," Eric agreed. "I will have my child take Miss Stackhouse to her home while we attend to...that. You'll be free to use our van to transport your belongings to your new residence tonight, unless you need to store them."

"I'll need to store them. I'm expected to deliver Henrik to our Queen before dawn, and of course, you will need time to have my coffin and the interior of my trunk cleaned."

"Oh, of course," Eric said.

These guys really hated each other. They reminded me a bit of Gran. The more she disliked someone, the sweeter and more polite she was when she saw them at church. "Kill them with kindness," she'd always tell me. Funny that vampires would follow the same wisdom. I had to turn away to hide my grin.

Pam called when she arrived at the loading dock, and Eric had her bring up the suitcases, along with a couple of luggage carts. Meanwhile, he, Bill, and Henrik proceeded to repack Bill's now-empty trunk and coffin with werewolves. It was probably tight fit, but none of the three were left in a state to notice. I did my best to keep out of the way.

When all of Bill's fake luggage, along with the real stuff, was loaded, we left his hotel room. Pam handed Eric the keys to the van as we waited for the elevator, along with a cell phone, since his wasn't working. The service elevator arrived before the passenger one. Before boarding the car, Eric made a show of planting a lascivious kiss on my lips which took me completely by surprise. He was gone with a wink as the wide beige doors swung shut behind him.

Pam waited for just a moment before remarking casually, "It seems someone has had an interesting day."

"You don't know the half of it," I grumbled.

"I'm eager to hear, once we leave. I'm to take you home and wait with you until Eric summons us," she said conversationally. "What are you making for dinner tonight?"

"Um. TruBlood?"

"Oh, not for me, but you should be sure to have a balanced meal. I gather you'll have a late night, and you need to keep up your strength."

I smirked stepping on to our elevator car as it arrived. There was a human couple already on board, dressed for the evening. They moved to one side while Pam and I took the other. The button for the lobby was already lit.

"More 'Dear Abby'?" I asked Pam.

"I've started a subscription to the Ladies' Home Journal. Have you finished all your holiday leftovers yet? I found some wonderful recipes. The pictures were very colorful."

"You'll have to cut them out for me," I smiled. Interesting reading. Maybe the next time she took up with a human, she'd do a better job of helping her stay hearty.

"Did you know that you can turn your leftover ham into a delicious dinner salad?" Pam inquired.

"I did not know that. That sounds..."

"My grandmother used to make the best ham salad," supplied the woman to our right.

Pam beamed at her. Despite where we'd gotten on, the couple didn't seem to register that Pam was a vampire. We shared smiles and 'good nights' with our temporary acquaintances when we parted downstairs.

"That was nice," Pam remarked. "None of the waitresses at Fangtasia seem interested in cookery."

"Why the sudden interest?" I asked, taking the lead towards the exit. Unlike Pam, I knew where my car was parked.

"A lot of the tourist women seem to discuss recipes quite a bit."

"They come all the way to Fangtasia to see real dead vampires, and spend the whole night talking about leftover turkey?"

"Some of them," Pam agreed. I tried to think back to the conversations I'd overheard on my own tourist excursion to the vampire bar and shrugged. I'd been too distracted to have retained much of anything.

Pam's hand shot up to grip around my arm. I started to say "Ouch," but she jerked me into silence. We were moving quickly across the parking lot but Pam quickened our pace even more. She had her eyes locked on two vampires a few cars over who were heading in the direction of the entrance. It was two women, one with short dark hair, and one lighter brown. I looked away quickly, focusing on the ground. They didn't stop, and neither did we, but the tense energy radiated off of Pam and settled in the pit of my stomach. I had the sneaking suspicion that the idea of an entirely clean getaway had just gone out the window.

She had her phone out as soon as we were in the car, before I even had time to hit the button for the door locks. She spoke too low and too quickly for me to hear, though I assumed she was on the phone with Eric. I drove us to my house and it didn't escape me how alert Pam remained throughout the drive. Vampires don't miss much as a general rule. Seeing her like this wasn't doing much to put me at my ease.

Neither did the way she said, "Park on the street," as we approached my house.

I didn't bother questioning her. It was shockingly early in the evening, not more than an hour after I'd first left Splendide, but the events of that hour seemed to be catching up with me incredibly quickly. Jesus Christ.

"What did I do?" I asked Pam, as if coming out of a daze.

"Exactly what you should have. Let's go inside," she suggested, already moving out of the car. She came around my side and waited for me, then took up a rear-flanking position as we walked up the path. I felt better when we reached the porch, the boundary of the wards that protected my home, and better still when the front door was locked and bolted in between us and the outside world.

"Who were they?" I asked.

"They're from Arkansas. I only know them by sight. The discovery party, most likely."

That didn't tell me anything I couldn't have guessed. "We cut it close," I said.

"Yes." Pam paused for a moment before looking me over. "Go and attend to your human needs. I want to hear everything that transpired, and I am assuming you don't want to tell me while wearing that."

The way I was feeling, I expected to look more ruffled, but my suit was still perfectly in order. "You're probably right. Help yourself to a bottled blood," I offered, trailing back down the hall.

It was a relief to shower and change. I fixed myself a salad and a frozen dinner and started to tell Pam about the day.

"They talked of killing the Queen out loud?" Pam was appalled. "Amateurs!"

"Well, if you think about it, I mean, it's not like there were any vamps around to hear them."

"No, just the Sheriff's consort."

"Is _that_ what I am?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. I suppose it's a good enough title. I imagine every vamp from here to New Orleans has heard it by now."

"It's for the best," Pam shrugged. Rather than sitting at the table with me, she was hovering by the kitchen window. I was trying to ignore that and get through my meal.

"I suppose it was inevitable."

"You're a lovely young woman, with a good position, and your family connections, those known publicly at least, are entirely respectable. Desmond Cataliades is a trusted servant of the Queen's. You make a perfectly adequate match for Eric, even excluding all of your...extras."

"You think that's enough to keep away any other questions about me?"

"I'm sure it will be suggested that a prominent vampire having some tie to your business is a useful thing. A bit of parity, perhaps. The business is owned by a demon and managed by a daughter of Weres. That their appraiser is linked to a vampire puts it all on an even keel, so to speak. And then, I'm sure it will also be noted that his company now holds the contract for security there."

"So let them all think he is sleeping with me for influence and business advantage with Splendide."

"Better than to have them thinking he is sleeping with you because you are a telepathic fairy princess."

"I'd rather they didn't think of me at all," I mumbled.

"I don't think that's all it is though, do you?" Pam continued as though I hadn't spoken. She sounded almost distracted, and I wondered if she knew exactly what she was asking me. I wasn't sure how to answer her, but Pam didn't wait for my reply, regardless. "Sookie, I think you should go and gather any weapons you have in the house."

"And why is that?"

"The same car has passed your house three times in the last fifteen minutes. It seems like merely surveillance, but let's not count on that."

"Ah."

I sighed, and forked the last few bites of my dinner into my mouth before my chair back. I guess I was just plumb out of panic. There was no point. I wasn't even surprised, really. I'd made a decision today, and I'd be living with the consequences for the foreseeable future. All I could do now was try to stay safe. That's why Pam was here. I could only be grateful I wasn't alone.

My phone rang, and the caller ID showed it was Mr. Cataliades.

"I'll take this in the bedroom," I said quickly. Pam only nodded, keeping her eyes on the street.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Miss Stackhouse. I understand you've had an eventful time today."

"About to get more eventful by the sound of things."

"Is something amiss? Something more than what has already transpired, that is."

"Pam is here. She says there's a car been circling the block."

"You have certainly stuck your neck out."

"Was it over the chopping block?" I asked bluntly.

"I have heard nothing like that, though I admit I was surprised by the mention of your name."

"There is a lot going on up here."

"I'd gathered that much." There was the faintest hint of irritation in his normally very soothing voice.

"You know that Threadgill is plotting to kill the Queen after they get married, right?" It was a night for laying things out there.

"That possibility has been suggested before, yes."

"Well, the guys that Eric has now are probably in the process of telling all about how much more than a suggestion it was."

"That's very interesting."

"Interesting enough that everyone forgets about me?"

"I can't predict that," he said honestly.

"It would have been much worse if I had done nothing," I defended.

"Much worse for the vampires of Louisiana, certainly."

"Nobody wants a regime change," I said. "Nobody wants a new Sheriff of Area Five, or a new Queen...do they?"

I meant him. He didn't want these things. I knew he liked his position, was comfortable in it. I admit that hadn't been front and center among my motivations for getting involved tonight, but it was true nonetheless. This king from Arkansas seemed to play fast and loose with his own territory, and with his scheming. Did we really want that in Louisiana? Even if I didn't have a personal interest, what happens with the vampires will trickle down to affect everyone. Better the foe we know than the foe we don't...

"No, Miss Stackhouse. None of us want that." There was a beat of silence as either of us recognized that we were officially throwing in with Team Sophie-Anne. At least that's what I was doing. It felt like a weighty thing. I decided I'd do what I might to support her for as long as Eric did. He liked her, I knew, because she basically left him alone. That was a quality of leadership that I could get behind.

"Has your assistance been requested in the interrogation?" Mr. C asked.

"Yes."

"Then I urge you to proceed with caution."

"I will. We will."

"Good. You'll call me before dawn?"

"I will," I agreed again.

"Be safe, Miss Stackhouse."

"You too, Mr. Cataliades."

I didn't have a lot to gather. I gave Pam her pick of the meager offering of weapons I could put together, between my own dagger and the kitchen knives. I kept the all silver one for me.

"So," Pam said, over her shouder as I sat back down at the table. "What happened after the Were guards turned their guns on you?"

I finished telling her about the evening, taking care not to leave anything out.


	31. A Pound of Vampires

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The beta for this story is FiniteAnarchy, and she continues to be fantastic.

Thank you to both, and also to all those who took time to send kind words and thoughts. I ended up going just a few hours shy of 2 full weeks without power after the storm. Yuck. It took a bit of time to get re-situated and back on track – and I had a hangup about not replying to reviews until I had a new chapter ready. Now that it's done, I won't make you wait again. Thanks for sticking around!

* * *

In the last chapter:

Sookie learned of a plot to frame Eric for the murders of two emissaries from Arksansas, and intervened. Though Sookie was only able to save one of the two slated for death, Bill and Eric managed to kill/capture the attackers and secure Henrik Feith as a witness.

Since Sookie's presence would inevitably draw the curiosity of the powers that be, an unspoken decision was made by Eric and Sookie to "go public" with their relationship, in the hopes that this alone will answer any questions about her involvement, ie, a human's blind devotion to the interests of her vampire lover, and nothing more.

Pam was sent to escort Sookie home from the casino. On the way out, they passed two vampires assumed to be arriving to "discover" the murders. After reaching Sookie's house, Pam notices a car pass by several times, realizing they must have been followed.

* * *

Chapter 31 – A Pound of Vampires

Pam and I stood side by side in front of the sink that sat below the window in my darkened kitchen. Another car had just driven by. It wasn't _the car_. _The car _hadn't appeared again in almost an hour. We were still on high alert.

I had tried and failed to get a mental read on the car's inhabitants. There was too much distance between here and the street, and even the relatively sluggish pace of twenty or so miles per hour moved them out of my range before I could hone in on anything.

The mild consolation in the situation was that the combination of dark tinted windows, and the intermittent glare of lights on the windshield, had rendered Pam's vampire vision just as ineffectual as my telepathy for determining who, or even what, was in the car. It wasn't exactly a comfort, but at least we'd struck out together.

"I think those are my neighbors," I said, of the innocuous sedan. It was hard to be certain, but I thought it was red, which would mean it belonged to the people three houses down.

Pam nodded. We'd talked for a while, but after I'd run out of details of the evening to recount, the mood had gradually shifted from tense and ready to anxious and frustrated. Given her preference, Pam would probably have found a way to get closer to the mysterious car and its occupants, but she'd been charged with my safekeeping and had no intention of leaving me alone in the house.

"Just go and check," I tell her. Her impatience was getting hard to ignore. "You can sprint right back in here as soon as you've had a look up and down the road."

"You wait in the back of the house," Pam instructed, and I rolled my eyes at her. As if the space of the hallway would preserve me from anything that managed to get in through the wards. "Fine," she said testily, "but keep back from the door."

Pam was out and back in only a couple of minutes. Considering the speed she was capable of I figured this had been more than enough for a thorough look around.

"Well?" I asked, locking the door again.

Pam straightened her hair in the hall mirror. "I think they've truly gone," she said. "When Eric checks in again I'll let him know."

I nodded, feeling myself relax only slightly. I didn't want to think too hard about the details of what Eric was doing right now with the two Weres that had been captured for questioning.

My hope was that Pam didn't want to call Eric right away only for fear of interrupting their flow. Surely interrogations have something of a procedure? At least that's what I've seen on the cop shows on television. Eric would probably play the good cop; not because he's the soft option, but because he can be charming when he's trying. From my limited exposure to Bill Compton, he didn't seem to share the same gift. I pictured Bill being a jerk, maybe hurling some chairs around. Then Eric would come in and ask the Weres if they needed to feed, and offer them water and stale crackers in a gesture of his magnanimity.

It was more pleasant to picture this scene, rather than the one where Eric wouldn't answer a phone call because his hands were busy beating someone to a pulp.

Pam and I retreated to the living room then, though she positioned herself so as to keep a view of the outside. I sat in the chair by the lamp and picked up a book to try and read. I didn't want to turn on the television just in case there was a noise outside that we needed to hear. The only sounds we heard for a long time were the occasional turn of a page and my steady breathing. I couldn't say exactly what was happening in the book. The maiden was disguised as a teenaged boy, was the main plot. The swarthy captain was probably in the process of figuring it all out, but I found it hard to devote myself to the story.

The pounding at the door startled me, and I think Pam as well, though she didn't let out my same shriek.

"It's me," came Eric's voice as the banging paused.

Pam let him in, and the two of them immediately bent their heads and began talking, so I pointedly cleared my throat. I wanted to know what was happening too.

"What's going on?" I asked, after another moment where they didn't acknowledge me. I suppose vampires must get used to ignoring the noises humans make, but this was really not the time for it, nor was I at all prepared to lump myself in with the humans they are accustomed to disregarding. Not tonight.

When they still didn't answer, I strode forward so I was standing right next to them, hands on my hips. "Well?" I asked.

Pam's eyes darted between Eric and I and she stepped back. Eric turned to me with an appraising look and then nodded.

"Compton has taken this Henrik Feith to New Orleans, as the Queen instructed. The Weres have been secured. What little they have said so far seems to corroborate what you have told us, but they must know they are going to die. They have stopped talking."

"Maybe the Queen would spare them?" I suggested. They treated me to matching dubious looks and I put my hands up. "Not out of the goodness of her heart, but because they could provide other information about how Threadgill operates if their loyalties would shift. Giving someone their life back can be a pretty compelling reason to switch sides."

Eric seemed to consider the suggestion, but Pam jumped in. "It wouldn't work," she said simply. "Weres are not like vampires. They will have family ties or pack obligations back in Arkansas that they would not simply abandon. It's one of the reasons why vampires are able to trust in their service in the first place. Besides, even if the Queen did not order their deaths, they still killed one of King Threadgill's people. If it's not one monarch, it will be the other."

"True," Eric agreed. "And this way, she will be able to present the culprits to Threadgill with justice already served."

"What?" I asked. "They'd still be on friendly terms? Even after this?"

"Outwardly," Eric said. "At least until she decides how to proceed. She may still be desirous of the wedding."

I gaped.

Pam smirked.

"Vampire marriages are rarely made due to mutual affection," she supplied.

"I know that," I defended. "But you'd think they'd at least be based on a shred of mutual trust."

"Not if she plans on taking Arkansas before he can take Louisiana anyway. When you think about it, there's little reason for her to entertain such a match in the first place. It would be useful if there were some greater threat to both states, but I don't see this as a lasting arrangement."

I frowned. More than anything, the situation just seemed sad to me. I struggled to shake it off.

"So," I asked. "What about me? Any questions about my presence or involvement or..." Or the uncanny way I put together the very limited amount of information I actually overheard with only my ears?

"There are some questions," Eric conceded. I felt my heart begin to race. "But none which can't be answered."

"What does that mean?" I demanded.

"There are a few gaps in the information we can fairly claim that you overheard in the traditional manner. You seem preternaturally shrewd, but my expectation is that we can pass it off as something that you happened to stumble upon, rather than pieces that you put together."

"And trust in vampires' opinion that humans and Weres are just so stupid that things were bound to unravel?"

"More or less," Eric agreed. "Although Compton may be more of an issue."

"Meaning?"

"He asked what you were. I answered that you were the goddaughter of Desmond Cataliades. Whether or not he leaves it at that is something we will need to wait and see."

"Eric, that's not good."

"I know," he said. "But the present issue, this Arkansas plot, far eclipses your identity at the moment. Tonight, we have other things to deal with."

"Right," I agreed, but feeling defeated. It was clear that Eric had bigger fish to fry tonight, and my fish would just have to wait.

"Pam, I need you to go to the club for an hour or so. Make sure things are running smoothly. Be seen by the humans. This is not the best night to have staged our reopening."

Pam didn't question his orders, but she didn't immediately run out the door to obey them, either. Maybe she, like me, was wondering what Eric was going to get up to while she was busy playing stereotypical-vampire to the humans. I didn't have any can't-question-your-maker hangups like she did, so I went ahead and asked.

"And what will you be doing?" I asked him.

"We will go to the warehouse and discover the whole truth of this matter. When the club closes, Pam, you will join us."

"There are some things you and me need to talk about before we go," I told Eric.

"Yes," he agreed, not meeting my eyes before he turned back to Pam.

I left the two of them alone then, retreating back to my bedroom to find a hat and gloves and a scarf. If we were going to be flying again, I wanted to be well bundled up. A moment later I heard the front door close and Eric was standing in my doorway.

"Are we going to the same place?" I asked him.

"Yes."

I looked down at my clothes. I wasn't going to change again today. I'd just have to avoid touching anything. I took a deep breath.

"What is wrong?" Eric asked.

"Let me start by saying that I am going to help you tonight, okay?"

"Alright. Go on."

"Eric, what am I to you?"

"You're my lover," he answered, nonplussed.

"And... how many of those do you have?"

Thankfully, Eric didn't answer that question.

"Sookie, where is this coming from?"

"You know where," I insisted. "It's from the other night." Last night? Good grief, this day seemed interminably long. "You were jealous about Ghellert, which is stupid, by the way, but I was jealous too. I know what it's like when you feed on me, it's extremely sensual and pleasurable and I don't know if I like... no. I _know_ that I don't like the thought of someone that I'm..." Again, I made the helpless gesture between him and myself. Dating? Screwing? "Doing that with other people."

Eric had used the word lovers to describe us, which sounded fine, until you tried to use it as a verb.

"You want me to stop feeding on other humans but you?" I expected him to sound incredulous, but he didn't. It was hard to read the expression on his face, and I kind of wished I could read his mind.

"No, not exactly. I mean, I know you have to, if you want to keep up your strength."

"Then what are you asking me?"

"I'm not comfortable being just one of the women you have sex with."

"I don't have sex with every woman I feed from." He managed to sound offended, but not much.

"I don't have sex with anyone but you." My tone was matter-of-fact. He knew this. He might have made that comment about Ghellert, but he knew I wasn't really doing anything with anybody else.

"And that is what you want from me?"

"Is that so much to ask? Every vampire from here to New Orleans knows I'm your lover now. Mr. Cataliades knows. Gladiola and Diantha know. Is it so much to ask that these same people not also be fully aware that I'm simply one among many?"

"You're not one among many, Sookie. It is the act of feeding..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I cut him off. "Sexy vampires, sexy blood, sexy feeding, sex, sex, sex. As it turns out though, that doesn't seem to be all this is about, with us. Is it?"

"No. That is not all there is to us."

"Right," I said. "Well that's what I need. Otherwise... otherwise I think we should just go back to being friends. The deal stands. I'll help you with telepathy on the really important matters, and you keep me safe from the other vampires."

"Alright."

"Alright?" Alright, he heard me? Alright, he'll think about it? Alright, we'll just stop having sex then?

"I agree. I will not have sex with anyone but you for as long as we are lovers." He seemed to consider something, and then continued, "I will not stop feeding off other humans though. We can survive on the synthetic blood, but you are aware that to stay strong we require human blood, and you would be unable to fill that need exclusively."

I nodded. I did understand that.

"And that will go in reverse as well," he added.

"Don't worry, I don't need to drink anyone's blood to stay strong," I smirked. I was a little giddy. I think a thousand year old vampire just agreed to something resembling fidelity.

"No, you don't. And you don't need anyone else's company, either."

"Company? I'm not giving up the few friends I have, Eric."

"You will also not have sex with anyone else while we are lovers."

"Of course I won't! You think I would ask you for something and not be prepared to offer the same in return? Anyway, I'm not that sort of woman."

"Your kind are known for taking many and varied partners."

"Mostly human here," I corrected. "I assure you that is one way in which I am not in touch with my fairy side."

"Alright," he said again.

"Alright. I still think it's best if I stay away from other vampires."

"Agreed."

I found myself in Eric's embrace and I wrapped my arms around him tightly. It was comforting. It felt like something was settled. I felt happy. Considering my plans for the rest of the evening, that was a minor miracle.

"You're pleased," he observed.

"Yes." I pressed my face into his chest and inhaled.

"I am pleased as well. It is good to have this settled. I do not enjoy quarreling with you."

"I don't enjoy it either."

"I much prefer your amiable company," he informed me, letting one of his hands drop from my back to my butt, giving it a little squeeze. "But as much as I would like to take this moment to _seal the deal_, I have much to do tonight, and I am sure you would prefer to be done with your part as quickly as possible."

"Yes," I agreed, pulling back with a little sigh. "Onwards then, to the torture chamber."

I got all bundled up and led Eric to the front door, allowing him to go out first, while I locked up behind us. He stood at the bottom of the porch stairs and extended his arms to me when I turned. I embraced him tightly, and he held me in turn, and then we took off into the sky.

My heart felt lighter, and not just because we flew. I thought that Eric felt the same. There seemed to be a bit more swooping than was strictly necessary. Despite where we were headed, or maybe because of it, the ride was very enjoyable. When I chanced to peek up at Eric, he was smiling faintly. Was it his own feeling, or was he just sensing my delight?

It was incredibly cold and breezy on the way. Maybe if Eric and I are still seeing each other when it gets warm again, he'll take me joy-flying.

The parking lot of the warehouse was exactly the same as it had been the last time I was there; empty and lit with distant orange light. The only additions were an unmarked white utility van, and standing next to the door, a vampire I didn't recognize.

Eric stood me on my feet and I held his arms before stepping back. As we passed the vampire, he greeted Eric as "Sheriff," and me as "Miss Stackhouse," though he didn't look directly at me.

Once inside, I saw that the darkened waiting room now contained most of Bill Compton's possessions. It was nice to see the warehouse actually being used to store things this time. I was very curious about all his stuff, and said so.

"It's tempting, yes, but he would know if anyone tampered with his possessions."

"What, are they booby-trapped or something?"

"I doubt it. I meant that he could smell it."

"Ah, right."

"Maybe if this were a more public place, or these were not his personal possessions, it would be less noticeable. Do not touch anything."

"Got it."

Eric led me back through the maze of corridors to the little walled in space that seemed to be designated for this sort of thing. I mentally cringed at the thought of this place ever becoming more familiar to me. I felt different being here; not nearly as terrified, nor disgusted. I worried if perhaps being mixed up with the vampire was causing me to become desensitized to this sort of thing. I didn't want that.

I'd been conflicted the first time I came here. At first I was reluctant, and also disgusted with the way the men had been treated. After I'd seen inside the drainers' heads, my opinion had changed. I couldn't condone the way they'd been brutalized, but part of me saw the justice, the symmetry.

Unlike the last time, there was no stink of filth wafting out of the little opening. It had been cleaned in the meantime, and the two Weres hadn't been here for more than a couple of hours. The body of the third, Randy, wasn't here. Either it was still in the van, or it had already been removed. I thought no more about that part of things. I wondered if he had a family and what they would be told. He was a murderer, well, an assassin I suppose. There's a difference there, in the motivation.

I wasn't sure the distinction made him any better until I started reading the minds of the other two.

Keith, the blonde, had the clearer mind, and was the easier read. He was in pain; that always came through loud and clear when it was present, but he was also resigned. He didn't feel guilty about what he had done, and he didn't feel particularly angry about his current circumstances. It was like he had been playing a high-stakes game, and now simply accepted the fact that he had lost.

I guess that's the sort of thing one resolves for themselves before becoming a contracted killer.

I tried something a little different when I asked the questions. Gary was more opaque, but I could get his general feelings easily enough. Though I had to probe him directly for some specifics, since he had broader knowledge, for the most part I questioned Keith and used Gary as kind of a litmus test. When there was more to a line of questioning, his thoughts became noticeably cloudier; the fog was denser. It was interesting, and pretty effective.

Unlike last time, Eric led the questioning, with me jumping in only occasionally to lead their minds in the right directions. He stood in front of them, while I stood behind. They'd each quickly identified me as both the woman from the diner, and as me, from Splendide. They were suspicious of me, and how I seemed to know what they were thinking, but they didn't seem to fully understand that I was reading their minds, at least at first. That was good, because there was every likelihood that they would speak to other vampires after this, and we hardly needed them to be spouting off, "Is that telepath coming back?"

Some questions they answered verbally, and some they didn't. Pam had been correct that the only thing they feared now was some kind of retaliation by Arkansas against their loved ones. Keith had proclaimed loudly and repeatedly that he was, "not a snitch," but he still thought about everything Eric asked him, so it didn't matter.

We took a lot of breaks, during which Eric and I retreated out of earshot to discuss what was on their minds.

"This is the first time Keith has worked out of state," I told Eric, "But Gary thought of other assignments. He was with the group in New Orleans earlier in the month, when you were there. You didn't recognize him?"

"Maybe," said Eric, considering. "There are always a lot of people at the Queen's residence. It is hard to keep track of all the new faces."

"Well that's stupid."

"What is stupid?"

"Why would she let a bunch of strangers into her house? You'd think as Queen she'd be more careful."

"There are many guards, even beyond her own retinue. The Queen is well defended at home."

"Well, apparently not, if she's got plotters and schemers staying in the guest room."

Eric let out a mirthless laugh. After a moment's thought, I could see why. Vampires are all plotters and schemers, right? That didn't mean you had to let them in your house. Unless you were a Queen, I suppose. Then the royal residence would also be where she conducted her business, and it would be impolitic to refuse admittance to everyone who seemed a bit shady. In fact, she probably wouldn't be able to admit anyone at all.

"So, that's where this trouble started for you, anyway," I explained. "When the Queen had you bring Clancy to New Orleans for his uh, execution. I guess it was at that point that Threadgill realized you'd be a real threat to his attempt to takeover, so this was his means of getting you out of the picture."

"I had already gathered as much," Eric said. I had a flash of indignation. If he knows everything already then why couldn't I be at home in bed? "Though it is nice to have suspicions so easily confirmed," he assured me.

"This was supposed to be a win for him no matter what. Their first hope was that they'd discover you at the scene and then you'd be taken to vampire jail, or whatever, or maybe even human jail."

"Human jail?" Eric asked, disbelievingly.

"You would have had to go willingly, or else become a fugitive. Either way you wouldn't have been around."

"And if not jail, what outcome did they anticipate?"

"They thought you might fight the discovery party when they came to detain you, or else they would take you captive, or else you would flee, which would have made you look guilty. In that case, it would be a good excuse for Threadgill to get a lot more of his people into the state to search for you. If you truly cut all ties and fled, that would accomplish the same thing; you'd be out of the way."

When Keith had made his remark much earlier in the afternoon about wanting to see "the fallout," I hadn't realized the degree of uncertainty. He had imagined a dozen different scenarios that could have occurred, and had been eager to see in which way it would all play out. None of his imaginings had included his current predicament.

"So what happens to those guys now?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know the answer?" He quirked a brow at me.

"Yes," I declared. "I don't want the details, but I'd like to know if they're going to be questioned by others, if they're going to be delivered to New Orleans. I'd like you to try to glamour them to forget I was here tonight as part of their questioning."

"This can be difficult. The Werewolves..."

I held up a hand to cut him off. I knew, Weres can be hard to glamour, and it doesn't always stick. "I'm going to need you to give it your all," I said sternly. "They're in good shape, I mean comparatively. Physically, mentally. They're not going to forget I was here. If they are questioned again, and they decide to start talking about how they were found out, instead of what they did..." I trailed off.

"It will be addressed."

I was weary when we were finally through, and so were the Weres. Sleepy minds tend to be more open, but they are harder to focus. We'd descended into the minutiae of Arkansas' assets, a subject on which their knowledge was patchy at best. Finally, I declared that there was nothing else to draw from them. The well was dry, and I was ready for my five hours of sleep. Eric made one of his terse phone calls, double-checked the Weres' restraints, and then led me back to the exit.

I was invigorated by the cool, fresh air outside. The vampire on guard at the door didn't need to straighten up to attention, but he did blink as we emerged, seeming to come out of that trance-like state that constitutes the vampires' downtime. Eric had another call to make, I didn't catch much of what he said, but I thought it was to Pam. I stretched my arms and legs, walking around in a tight circle. I started to wonder what we were waiting for, until another car pulled up.

I tensed up immediately, but Eric didn't. He was obviously expecting the arrival. To my surprise, it was Thalia who emerged. I hadn't seen her drive before, and it struck me as incredibly peculiar. Like Eric, she didn't really try to seem like anything other than exactly what she was; an ancient vampire. She didn't have Eric's savoir-faire. She stuck out, even among her peers, as distinctly inhuman. Seeing her do such a regular thing as driving was just plain weird, as was her choice of vehicles. If I had to picture Thalia's mode of transportation, it would have been a palanquin, or a chariot, not a Hyundai Sonata.

I smiled at her, and she glowered at me in return. I'd learned that was just her way, and wasn't offended. She nodded to Eric and the other vampire. At first I thought she was here to relieve the other guard, but then the two of them moved to go inside.

"We'll take the van back," Eric said, though he didn't move to get in, nor get my door.

"Alright," I agreed, shifting back and forth on my feet. "What are they doing in there?"

"Our captives need to have the appearance of a more trying evening than they have enjoyed so far."

I swallowed. Thalia and the other guy were in there beating up the Weres. She always seemed so angry. Maybe to her, this kind of task was a reward.

If I strained, I imagined that I could hear noises coming from inside. I shivered. There was a dull thud. My head snapped to Eric. He was watching the door. That had not been in my head. A louder crash and then, shouting. Another crash. I moved to stand closer to Eric, but he shoved me back.

I stumbled, and turned back to the door just in time to see it fly open as a wolf bounded through.

Eric leapt forward with a shout and I was frozen. I had no weapon, and nothing that could be used as one. I wanted to help Eric, but I couldn't fight with my bare hands and teeth as he could. I'd be in the way. The wolf lunged at Eric and he rolled with it before they both found their feet again. I had to move.

"Move!"

Was it him shouting? Was it me?

The door banged open for the second time and the second wolf scrambled through. Once it got outside it paused. Where the hell were the other vampires? The second wolf seemed more injured. It moved on only three legs, starting towards Eric. I had to go. Eric is strong. Eric can literally kill Weres blindfolded. Eric didn't need my help. I needed to get out of the way. I started to run toward the van, and the thought didn't enter my mind until I tugged on the door that it wouldn't be open. I ran to the other side and pulled. Nothing. I looked down and was met with a growl.

I think it was Gary. He bore his teeth at me and lunged and I kicked out to deflect. I kept my hold on the door handle, stepped up onto the running board, and kicked again and again. On the third blow, it caught my shoe and didn't let go.

It jerked me forward and I felt my other foot slip out from under me and suddenly I was flying outward, the gravity of my fall combining with the wolf's pulling. I tried to pull my legs back under me and had only a second to drag a hand behind my head before it smashed against the same running board I'd just been standing on. I cried out in pain; a horrible sound that was not the shrill scream of a heroine in a horror movie, or the shocked shriek of a girl who has just seen a spider in her bedroom, but the guttural bellow of a woman who has just sacrificed at least two bones in her hand to spare her skull from cracking open.

I couldn't stay like this. I yanked at my legs and suddenly they came free. There was a sharp whimper as Thalia pulled the wolf from me, wrapping her arms around its body, and then throwing it to the ground. Before it could right itself, she pounced on it, snapping its neck with finality.

Eric strode over then, looking pleased and then instantly worried as he saw the state of me.

"Where is Dustin?" he snapped, coming to my side and kneeling.

"Inside," Thalia answered. "He needs blood."

"How did this happen?"

"They managed to free themselves of the silver bonds. One started to shift, allowing him to slip out from the rest, and the other followed suit. They attacked Dustin first. I fought with one, while the other fled. When the second realized he was alone, he broke away from me and fled as well. I chased and pulled the one I had been fighting from Sookie."

"See to Dustin. Give him blood if he requires it," he ordered. "I will tend to Sookie."

"Thalia, Thank you," I said to her. My voice sounded raw. She gave me a slow nod, and then turned to obey her Sheriff's orders.

Eric pulled the keys from his pocket and pushed a button and I heard all the locks click open. He scooped me up and placed me in the passenger's seat as I cradled my hand.

I stayed silent as he called the Queen and spoke to her representative to explain that the Weres had tried to escape, had attacked, and had been killed. He quickly reassured whoever was on the other end of the line that they had been fully questioned, and started relaying some of the valuable information we had obtained. He didn't hang up until we had reached my house, which I figured was also deliberate.

Owing to my injury, I couldn't reach my keys, so I asked Eric to fish them out after he helped me down from the van. He led us inside and I walked immediately back to my bedroom. I toed off my shoes, one of which was ruined. There was blood on my sock. I guess the wolf had bitten through. I made my way into the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub immediately.

I didn't think I was in any danger. Werewolves can transmute something resembling their condition through their bites, but it has to be a particularly savage wound, or many lesser ones. These were just small pinpricks, though my foot was sore, and I could see it already starting to bruise. Eric stood in the door and watched me struggle to remove my jeans one-handed, plucking at the buttons then wriggling down each side, then shimmying my hips until they fell down.

When I started to pull my injured arm through the sleeve of my shirt, stretching it in the process, he stepped forward to help. I let him. He unclasped my bra and then ran his fingertips lightly across my back, which made me wince. I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder to see a lot of scraped red skin. It must have happened at the same time I banged my hand, that greater pain distracting me from others.

Eric joined me in the shower and helped me wash my body. My hand was swelling up considerably. I need to get it iced really quickly.

"Can you help me with this?" I asked, looking down where Eric crouched, as I held my hand out slightly to indicate.

"Yes," he agreed, and continued to wash my feet.

He dried me off and helped me into my robe and then bid me to sit on my bed while he left for the kitchen. I heard the microwave go as he heated a blood for himself. He'd been in a fight, and had taken some superficial wounds as well. He was entitled.

Eric returned and sat beside me on the bed.

"Will you take blood?" he asked.

I had figured this was his plan when he returned without an icepack. It had been a few weeks since the last time I had taken Eric's blood, and the effects had waned considerably. My injuries were not as serious as the last time I'd agreed to this. I could probably go to the hospital. I wasn't sure how they treated a broken hand. The bones are really too small to benefit from a cast. It would have to be a giant mitten thing to be effective. They probably just tape it. Maybe put a splint in to prevent bending. Then I'd be healing for weeks. On the other hand, so to speak, I could wake up tomorrow feeling wonderful, and being no more or less in Eric's power than I am right this minute.

"Yes," I agreed. I wasn't terribly enthusiastic though, and didn't sound it.

"Lean back," he said, and helped to shift me so I lay against his chest with my head tucked under his chin. He was only wearing a towel, and it felt strange that something this intimate didn't feel sexy at all.

I heard the sickening little crunch as he bit into his own wrist and then drew his arms around me, offering the wrist at my mouth.

I drank a couple of mouthfuls but turned my head away when he moaned softly.

"No more," I said quietly, and he stirred. He kissed my neck softly and then lapped his own saliva across the wound to stanch the bleeding.

"You let that happen," I observed. "You didn't secure their bindings, you loosened them."

"It was necessary," he answered, and I understood that, really I did.

"They had to be an imminent threat to merit killing them," I said.

"Yes."

"A threat to me, specifically?"

"Not to you specifically, no. That was not intentional."

"But it was, wasn't it? You had us wait out there for them."

"He shouldn't have gone for you. Their fighting style is to team up against the greater threat, not to attack the helpless."

I didn't argue the term. In that context it had been absolutely true.

"I could have waited in the van," I said.

He didn't answer that, likely because he had no answer. He had killed them for my sake, and he had risked me in the process. That is what happened, no two ways about it.

"Why didn't you tell me the plan?"

"You would have panicked, or tried to interfere, or seemed prepared. I did not know for sure that the wolves would be the first out of the door. Your surprise only fueled the plausibility of the thing."

"Thalia seemed fully convinced when she pulled the Were off my leg."

"You weren't in danger of any lasting harm," he said. He meant it to sound soothing. It was. It wasn't.

"I'll just have to take your word for that, won't I?"

"Sookie..."

"Eric, I'm very tired. Could you make sure you lock up before you leave?"

"Yes."

I shifted so that I was lying on the bed, rather than on Eric, but he didn't move to get up. Instead, he wrapped himself around me, and held me as I drifted off. My feelings were such a jumble. Frustration, gratitude, hurt, even a touch of pride. It had been clever. Thalia and Dustin hadn't been in on it either, and they'd haplessly assisted in disposing of the witnesses to my telepathy. Eric had been defending two of his vampires and his human. It was all utterly justified. Unquestionable. And yet, completely questionable.

He wasn't there when I woke, of course. There was a note perched in front of my alarm clock informing me I'd hear from him tonight, and reminding me to be safe.

I stumbled getting out of bed as I tripped over the towel he'd left on the floor.


	32. Her Vampires Are More Beautiful

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. Thank you, Finiteanarchy for never failing to provide not only corrections, but wonderful and thoughtful feedback, even when I know you're totally busy. You rock.

* * *

In the last chapter:

Eric and Sookie formally agreed to an exclusive sexual relationship, also both agreeing that there is more to them than just that.

Working together, Eric and Sookie acquired a lot of useful information from the Weres. Thalia and another vampire are charged with roughing up the captives to create the appearance that a more "traditional" interrogation took place, but the Weres broke free and attacked, leaving Sookie with a broken hand and lesser wounds.

Eric took Sookie home, bathed her, and offered her blood to heal, which she accepted. When asked, Eric admitted that he had facilitated the Were-attack to create a reason for killing them.

* * *

Chapter 32 – Her Vampires Are More Beautiful

In spite of my late night, I beat Holly to work the next day. Tray was outside, and while I could tell he wanted to ask me about what had happened the night before, I wasn't interested in talking about it just then. Instead, I went inside and brewed the coffee, and picked over one of the tins of Christmas cookies which had been going stale for the last two weeks.

I called to check in on Gran, interrupting what sounded like a family breakfast (of egg white omelets and fruit, she was quick to assure me). Jason was getting ready for work. They'd gotten Gran's car back, and Hadley was planning to go around town and inquire after a job. The holidays, the fire, and tending to Gran had all stalled her search. It was good to hear she was getting back on track. She was probably going a little stir-crazy being cooped up at Jason's.

Hadley hadn't received a call back from any of the casinos she'd applied to here in Shreveport. After yesterday, I reckoned that was a good thing. There were about to be a few vacancies in both the security and housekeeping departments at the Trifecta, but it was better that Hadley stay close to sleepy Bon Temps. It was out of the way of trouble, except for the vampire next door.

That was a conversation to be had in person, so I didn't mention it. After only a few minutes I let them get back to their cooking. My morning went smoothly, and as we'd agreed, Brenda and I had lunch. She didn't exactly apologize for the blowup the other night, and neither did I apologize for interfering. She did reiterate once again, her deep-seated concerns about vampires in general. I tried to sound sympathetic to her feelings, but she wasn't buying it.

"But you're attached to the Sheriff now," she argued. Yup, word travels fast. Well, I suppose she'd been aware that something was going on for a while now.

"He's not like them," I said, meaning the New Orleans vamps she'd been complaining of. Immediately, I wondered if I was lying. Hadn't Eric forced his way down to the lab not so long ago, the same way Bill Compton had intended on doing? No, there was a difference. Eric had been in real need. He wasn't just throwing his weight around.

There were other major differences as well. Eric wasn't Mr. Perfect, but he could present that. He could be intimidating, and he _was _scary, but he didn't necessarily lead with that. He was open to alternatives. Flexible. In short, despite the email thing, he was _modern_. A modern vampire. Pam was too.

"They aren't all scary like that big Bert guy was, or jerks like Compton," I finished.

"Yes they are. They are _all_ vampires, Sookie."

"Brenda," I coaxed, "we can't discriminate."

"It's not discrimination!" she exclaimed, but quickly lowered her voice again so as not to attract the attention of the other diners in the restaurant. "It's not discrimination. It's not the same as judging someone because of the color of their skin. It's judging a murderer for being a murderer."

"Even murderers are usually given the chance to reform," I said.

"But they're not reforming. You know it's all crap. You know the still feed on humans."

"Willing humans," I corrected.

"That's crap too," she argued. "You _know_ it is."

I did know, but I also knew that the reality, at least for my vampires, wasn't what she was implying. I didn't agree with everything I'd seen Eric do, not by a long shot, but it wasn't like he was snatching young mothers out of their minivans and slaughtering them before their young. His moral compass was not wholly in sync with mine, but I didn't doubt that he possessed one.

The fact was, the rules were different in the supe world. Brenda knew this. Could she honestly say the Weres; her own parents, sister, cousins, were any different? Hadn't the local pack participated in hunting down the Were-witches? I was sure some of that killing had been even less... _humane_ than the things I had witnessed. Weres weren't known for their neatness.

Something Niall had patiently and repeatedly explained to me over the years – and something I'd witnessed first hand in the last few weeks – was that while some situations could be influenced, the fundamental nature of supernatural creatures could not be changed. Acceptance didn't enter the equation. All that people like Brenda and I could do, was try to understand.

"You're thinking like a human," I said.

"I am a human, Sookie."

I sighed. _But they're not._ She did know what I meant. I couldn't take the point any further. I spread my hands in surrender.

"I'm just saying, they're not all bad. Thalia and Anthony are growing on you, aren't they?"

She rolled her eyes. "That woman – vampire," she corrected, "is terrifying."

I risked a little grin. "She is. I'm glad she's on our side."

That too, was not strictly true. Thalia, like most every other vampire, was on her own side. However, the status quo was working for everyone here in Shreveport. As Mr. Cataliades and I had agreed, that was a side in and of itself.

Brenda let out a little huff, since she couldn't really argue with my remark about Thalia being an asset to us. Anthony was as well. He wasn't nearly as imposing, but by vampire standards, he was far more personable. All the others felt more comfortable around him.

"Do we know who is replacing Gerald yet?" I asked. The vampire's employment with us had been so brief before his final death that I wasn't sure anyone else even knew what had happened.

"No. And as long as Mr. Ghellert stays on, there's really no need to hurry."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking her what the opinion of Management would be. It wouldn't help us get back to normal if it seemed like I was undermining her authority again.

"How long is he going to be with us?"

"Through the end of _February_," Brenda grumbled, bristling. I didn't understand her reaction.

"You don't like him either?" I asked, trying not to sound accusing.

"Oh, I like him fine," she dismissed. "And no doubt he's very good at keeping the premises secure. It's just that this isn't all he's doing here."

"What do you mean?"

"We're being overseen of course. And it's fine, obviously. I certainly couldn't, nor wouldn't, argue his prolonged presence. Management has a right to audit. It's just that I feel like _every little thing_ I do is under examination."

I could hear the release of her pent up frustration and felt like I'd just been given a big insight on her state of mind lately.

I pursed my lips. "I haven't really gotten that impression."

"Yes well. You're downstairs all day, aren't you?"

"I suppose that's true," I conceded.

I hurriedly took another bite of my sandwich and we fell into silence once again. It hadn't occurred to me that Ghellert was checking up on Brenda. I knew he was making sure that everything, not just the security stuff, was running smoothly in the wake of the burglary. I hadn't realized that included watching over Brenda. Was he watching the brokers too? Was he watching me? Surely he must be monitoring the whole operation if any of it.

At least I'd be able to report to Eric unequivocally that yes, Ghellert had followed me to Arkansas for work purposes only. Oh. He'll probably report to Mintah that I screwed up with the will-o'-the-wisp. That wasn't entirely my fault. Okay, maybe it was. I should have waited until I was back at Splendide to examine it. Damn.

When the waitress brought our check, I looked it over quickly before producing the money to cover my half. She'd signed it with a big smiley-face at the bottom and the letters TGIF.

"Thank goodness it's Friday," I read.

"Agreed," Brenda said. "Plans for the weekend?"

"I should probably drive out to Bon Temps on Sunday," I said distractedly. I hadn't even realized the day. This entire week had been such a jumble.

Brenda nodded. I don't think she really listened to my answer as she produced her own bills. With a wave to our waitress as we left, we headed back to Splendide. Ghellert was standing near Holly's desk, and I made myself smile and nod to him as I usually might. I decided to try not to worry about being under scrutiny. I doubted Brenda needed to either.

Though neither of us were truly irreplaceable, it wouldn't be an easy task. I liked to believe I had job security. I also liked to believe that it was not undeserved. I worked hard to continue improving my knowledge in both the human and supernatural fields, as well as the science for both. I enjoyed my work, and believed that I did it well.

I made myself busy in the afternoon, becoming wholly immersed in trying to identify the origin of a small carving of a bat made from lapis lazuli. It was difficult since the stone was traded so broadly across Asia and Europe throughout antiquity, and because bats live practically everywhere in the world. It wasn't until after seven in the evening that I was ready to declare with moderate confidence that it was crafted in Macedonia sometime in the century before the birth of Christ, and most likely kept in the home as a good luck charm. As far as I could tell, it was just an ordinary figurine, but I wasn't going to discount some ancient person's power of positive thinking.

Since it was well after dark, Ghellert walked me to my car. Besides Anthony Bolivar, he was the only one still at work. Everyone else had vacated the building more than an hour ago.

"You worked very late," he commented as we walked.

"I get involved." He wasn't one for chitchat, so I assumed this was information gathering. "And I didn't want to leave it for Monday," I finished, hoping to leave him with the impression that I was a hard worker. It was true!

He nodded and we reached my car. I tossed my purse across to the passenger's seat before getting in.

"Um, Ghellert?"

"Yes?"

"Is it true you're reporting on us to Mintah?" I asked. Though we were alone in the parking lot, I still took care to speak quietly.

"Yes," he answered. "He is interested to know how things are here."

I nodded. "Is there anything that I am doing wrong, or should be doing better?"

It seemed like a fair question to ask. If I've been receiving an ongoing performance review, I should be entitled to ask for feedback.

He tilted his head at me in a distinctly aquiline manner, and studied me for a long moment.

"No," he finally answered.

"Oh. Well, alright then. Thanks. Um, goodnight," I managed, starting to duck into the car.

"Goodnight," he responded evenly.

He remained standing as he was. I gave another little wave after backing out of my spot, before driving off. I shook the odd exchange out of my head and stopped at the library on my way home. After that I stopped at the grocery store.

Eric had said he would stop by, but I didn't expect it to be early. I knew he had to put in his time at the club. He had regretted missing the reopening last night, but stayed with me anyway, even after the questioning was done and I was healed. It wasn't the grandest of gestures, but whenever they talk about relationships, they say it's the little things that count, right?

It was good that he stayed, both for me, and for us. I still wasn't happy about the fact that he'd put me at risk, but what bothered me more is that he left me clueless. I put away the groceries and started work on some chicken cutlets. I decided to use the whole package, reasoning that they could be frozen or used for other meals this week. It kept my hands busy but allowed my mind to wander, and I applied it to the task of trying to think like Eric.

He'd assumed the Weres would behave a certain way, teaming up on him, and that had to come from vast experience. He'd been wrong. I'd been too wrapped up in pain to measure his reaction. Was he really surprised, or had it been a calculated risk? What were the odds? 80/20? 90/10? I hoped less than that.

He was a very competent fighter with due confidence in his abilities. Though it was Thalia who killed the wolf attacking me, he'd been right there. He could have been able to do the job single-handedly, and I'd have been no worse for wear than I ended up. My injury had been a fluke. He certainly couldn't have foreseen that I'd slip off the van's running board. Leaving the van locked had been part of his plan. The imminent threat to me had been key.

I went a little wild with the tenderizer, ending up with some very thin and much abused cutlets. To my bemusement, the steady rhythm I'd been banging out continued from the front door. I stretched my mind. Vampire. Pam. I had only two vampire acquaintances who would call on me at home, and since I knew it wasn't Eric, that didn't leave a lot to deduce. I did wonder if perhaps I knew on some instinctual level, owing to the presence of his blood in me.

I let her in and she followed me back to the kitchen, peering around with interest at the obvious cookery that was taking place.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"Chicken cutlets."

"You cut the chicken into little pieces?" she asked, after mulling over the word.

"Smaller, yes. And then you beat the daylights out of them," I smiled, hefting the mallet.

"I heard," she smirked.

"Help yourself to a blood," I suggested. "They had Alta Vitae on sale. You'll have to let me know if it's any good."

"They're all terrible."

"Yes, well, it's all I can offer you."

"I know," she agreed, and proceeded to heat the bottle by its instructions while I went back to banging out the chicken.

"Working out some aggression?" she smirked, when I stopped a second time.

"Not really. Not aggression. Frustration? I assume you know what happened."

"He told me one of the Weres attacked you, and had to be put down."

"Did he tell you he orchestrated it by loosening their bindings?"

"No, but it does make sense."

She was quiet, watching intently as I washed my hands and prepared the flour and breadcrumbs, then added a splash of buttermilk and a touch of Tabasco to the egg wash.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Is that why you're here?" I countered. "To feel me out before he shows up?"

"I'm here because I had some free time before I'm expected at Fangtasia," she answered, unconcerned. "You certainly _seem_ angry."

"I'm not," I sighed. "Conflicted at worst."

"What is your conflict?"

I turned around to face her, ignoring the sticky mess that was my fingers. "He did it for me, and it was clever, and I'm grateful, but he knew he was risking my life and he did it without my knowledge – however good his intentions."

Pam stared at me with a look eerily similar to the one I'd gotten from Ghellert. The look that says, 'I understand everything you've just said, but I can't possibly fathom your meaning.' I realized that she, as a matter of course, found very little reason to question Eric, nor fail to trust his judgment. Aha. That was it exactly. I'd been struggling to pinpoint exactly how I felt about what had happened. I was upset because it had caused me to question his judgment.

"Ugh," I said, turning back to get the rest of the chicken on to the oiled pan. "Forget it. I'm _not_ angry with him. Let's just... talk about something else. How was it at the club last night?"

"Oh, very good. We made lots of money."

"Just your regular crowd, or did you have a tourist bus?"

"We had _two_," she smiled. "Rescheduled from last week. Some of the women were disappointed that Eric wasn't there. His picture is on a lot of our promotional materials, you know."

"I didn't know that."

"I'll bring you one of the fliers we send out to the regional tour offices. We've already done the ones for Spring. Your Were friend was in as well."

"Tray?" I questioned. He was the only person who came close to fitting the description.

"Yes. Tray Dawson," she remembered.

"Huh. I didn't think Fangtasia was really his scene."

"There were several Weres in last night. We gave some of those who've been helping us free drinks vouchers. I expect they will come again."

"That's odd, isn't it? I mean, you don't get along."

"I suppose a vampire-owned establishment is more preferable to some than a human-owned one, at least until they manage to rebuild the Hair of the Dog. If they rebuild it. I take it you've heard all about that?"

"Tray filled me in, but I figured you'd have gone back to your neutral corners now that the mutual threat is gone."

"Oh, we have. Most of them were quite rude to Long Shadow at the bar. Not your friend, though. He has very good manners."

_When he wants to_, I thought. Out loud I asked, "But they still chose to drink there?"

"And their money is still good. It works out," Pam shrugged.

I really didn't understand how she could bear it. Humans gawking at her, Weres stewing in bitterness, all in her own bar. I asked her how she managed.

"Oh, I have a good expression for that. Would you like to hear it?"

"I'm on tenterhooks," I deadpanned.

"If you enjoyed it, it wouldn't be called _work_," she quoted. "I say it to the waitresses all the time. It's very amusing."

I chuckled at the image of Pam interacting with her fangbanging waitstaff. I wondered what other inspirational quips she had to share in the staff room. I sensed she was the type of person who would really appreciate motivational posters. Maybe I could get her one.

"I love my work," I shrugged.

"Lucky you. Mine has its moments." She smiled wickedly.

"I suppose it's the difference between a job and a career," I observed.

"I don't think I've ever had a career."

"I wouldn't think most vampires have, unless they carried it over from their human lives." I tried and failed to think of careers that vampires could have even with the proper education. There are things you can do with the internet, and more business is conducted at night since the vampires came out, but they still didn't have very many options in the human sphere.

"I've taken business classes," Pam said. "At night school of course. In Minnesota."

"Do you have a degree?"

"No, but that's of little consequence. I wouldn't work for anyone besides myself."

"Or Eric," I supplied.

"Yes," she agreed.

"I suppose you guys have careers within your own arena," I mused, continuing my thoughts out loud. "So being Eric's lieutenant is your career, and running the bar with him is one of your jobs?"

"I suppose so," she agreed again, seeming distracted by her own thoughts.

I hoped I hadn't said anything inappropriate. What if she suddenly decided that she wanted a career now? I didn't think she would up and leave Eric in a lurch, but I doubted she'd be easy to replace.

"Does Eric have any other children?" I asked suddenly.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

Because in my crazy imagination, you've already run off to be a career-woman-vampire somewhere and I'm wondering who your maker will summon to fill your shoes.

"Just curious."

"She left him before he made me."

"Are they still in touch?"

"You'd have to ask him."

"Oh. You don't know her?"

"We've met."

She left it at that, and I took the opportunity to pull the pan from the oven and turn the chicken so it cooked evenly on both sides. Pam and I chatted a bit more as my dinner and future leftovers finished cooking. I asked her what she would do if she could do anything.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, just for fun. I mean would you ever want to be an actress, or an astronaut, or a fashion designer?"

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose I wouldn't mind running my own business."

"What kind of business?"

"I don't know," she repeated, sounding truly baffled. "It's different for us, as you know. We are beholden to our monarchs and their lords. We do not always have a say in what we do for work."

I was only aware of that in the abstract. "Eric doesn't force people to work for him though, does he?"

"No. He prefers his people to put in hours at that bar, but in lieu of that, he will accept a tithe. Sookie, what is all this talk of jobs and working about?" She sounded perturbed.

"I think we're being audited at work," I said immediately. The thought hadn't fully left my mind since Brenda first mentioned it at lunch. "I like to think my job is safe, but you never know for certain."

"You think you could be fired?"

"No, not really, but I guess I'll just be nervous until I know what the result of the evaluation is."

"And what would you do, if you did not work where you work now?"

"I guess I'd have to try to find work in the human field. My situation right now is kind of singular."

"You mustn't worry. It will only cause you to wrinkle prematurely," she said, arching a perennially perfect brow.

"Thanks Pam," I muttered.

"You're welcome," she replied.

Pam and I moved on to lighter topics, including the fact that they'd be bringing on a new bar manager soon. She subtly mentioned the fact that she and Eric would both be quite wrapped up at Fangtasia until that person was trained up and ready. I wondered if she was attempting to preemptively excuse his future scarcity, but decided to take it as more of a friendly warning.

She ended up staying with me for two hours before she had to get back to Fangtasia. I really enjoyed her company. She was quickly becoming a good friend to me. I wondered if she felt the same, and if she was as surprised by it as I was.

It was another couple of hours after she had left before Eric turned up. I was in bed, but wide awake and completely involved in the very steamy plot of one of my library books. I marked my page and quickly went to the door thinking that he had rather impeccable timing.

The look Eric gave me was almost feral, and I was sure the one I returned showed equal passion. I didn't need Eric's blood in me to want to jump his bones, but the recent infusion had certainly given the boost to my ardor. He closed the distance between us in a blink, pressing his mouth to mine and gathering me up. I squealed in surprise as he lifted me, vaguely aware of the sound of the door slamming shut as he moved us to the bedroom. He was almost frantic as he began to strip off my pajamas, laving each part of me as it was bared to him with his tongue and lips, the teasing nips of his teeth, and the tantalizing scrape of his fangs.

Now on my bed, I leaned back against my elbows, lifting my hips to help him remove my pants and underwear. His fangs were full down and his tongue flicked out over his lips and then he tore his eyes away from my sex to meet mine again. I shook my head, scooting back out of his reach and he lurched forward to pounce but I caught his face between my hands and kissed him.

Sitting up, I helped peel away his shirt, kissing down his chest as I fumbled with his belt. He was wearing leather pants. When he took the matter of belt and his fly into his own hands, I ran mine up and down the supple hide covering his thighs and his groin. He groaned, pulling back and ridding himself of the garment. I was fleetingly regretful that I hadn't taken a better look at him in them, but I was sure I'd have another chance.

Coming forward on my hands and knees I went back to kissing down his naked torso until I came to the thatch of golden blonde hair. My cheek brushed against his length as he shifted and I pressed my nose against him, inhaling the odd, dry musk of him. Feeling daring, I let my tongue dart out to lick him, and in moments I was pressing long, wet kisses up and down him. His hands came to cup my jaw and he moaned again. When I dipped my lips to wrap around his head, his hips jerked backwards, and I looked up at him with confusion.

"Not now," he murmured, pulling me up to his mouth. Then, he was between my thighs, and I was being guided backwards, hitching my leg against his hip as he thrust inside me. It all seemed like one motion. It was the first time he hadn't spent time preparing me to receive him, and whether he could sense that I was just as turned on as he was, or if he was just so eager, I'll never know. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him to me, whimpering into his mouth each time he filled me, drawing my hips up to meet him.

It was fast and dizzying, but I was learning him. I could tell by the tight draw of the muscles under my hands in his back and his smooth torso that he was close. I didn't even mind that I hadn't reached my own climax; it was gratifying to see him so unbridled, and all for me. But he did mind, and he pulled back from me, catching his hands under my thighs and lifting my lower half clear off the bed. The new angle let him stroke that place inside me that had me seeing stars in less than a minute, and I remember gasping out his name before he joined me in that instant of unmitigated bliss.

He was still afterward, letting his eyes close while I panted, willing my heartbeat to slow down, but at the same time sorry that it was over. I curled up beside him and let my fingers splay across his chest. He shuddered when I ran my fingernails lightly across his nipple. He grinned down at me with a lazy smile which I was happy to return.

"Nice to see you too," I chuckled.

"Mmm." It was a noise of perfect contentment. "It's always nice to see you, lover." He gave me a squeeze, nuzzling into my hair in a gesture that somehow managed to improve upon what was already a wholly satisfactory moment.

"I take it you've had a good night so far?"

"Much better now," he said, shifting to lay back more fully, and pulling me along with him.

"How was work? Everything okay at Fangtasia?"

"Yes. Business is picking right back up. The men and women who lust after us and those who chase after them were out in droves."

I wrinkled my nose, annoyed by the thought of droves of women lusting after Eric. I couldn't blame them, but still.

"That must have been difficult for you to bear," I teased. Was it complying with our new arrangement that put him in such a lather before he arrived? Maybe it was just thinking all night about what he couldn't do, and perhaps also what he could. Maybe he'd felt my own lust, too.

"Oh yes. It was very hard."

"Oh jeez, Eric. That joke is older than you are."

He threw back his head and laughed, and I felt warm all over.

"Well, I'm sorry you had such a rough night," I said, feeling not the least bit sorry, considering the outcome was greatly to my benefit.

"Sookie, I am detecting a distinct lack of sympathy in your tone."

"You poor baby," I said, wriggling up to cradle his head in my arms and petting his hair. "Why don't you tell me all about how hard it was for you."

"I would prefer to show you."

"Again?"

"And again if necessary. Until you fully understand."

"I don't know Eric," I cooed. "That sounds like it could take all night."

"That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," he said, shifting his body over mine again. "If it means I can drive the point home to you." He gave a little thrust of his hips into mine, and I could feel that his point was once again ready to be made.

I kissed him with abandon, feeling simply happy. Eric took the opportunity to plead his case once more. It wasn't until after that, and some more idle chatter about nothing in particular that I started to doze off.

"Sookie, are you asleep?"

"Yes," I replied drowsily. "And I'm dreaming of you, so let me get back to it."

"I must leave now."

That woke me up a bit. I glanced over at the clock and saw that dawn wasn't too far off, then looked up at Eric. He had used my shower, and was once again dressed. The pants really were terrific.

I got out of bed so I could follow him out, grabbing my robe on the way. Once he was out on the porch, he turned, and pulled at the belt, letting the robe fall open as he slipped an arm around my waist.

"Eric! Stop, someone will see!" I tried to squirm away from him.

"No one will see," he said, and kissed me thoroughly a final time. As soon as he started to pull back, I drew the robe around me again.

"Pam said you guys might be quite busy for a while," I said, reaching for anything to delay his departure for another minute. I immediately regretted choosing end the interlude by introducing the idea that there wouldn't be an encore in the immediate future.

"You saw Pam?"

"She was here earlier. Didn't you uh," I gave an experimental sniff at the cold night air, as if expecting to catch a whiff of Pam's perfume. "smell her?"

Wouldn't she have mentioned it? I'd always assumed her visits were Eric-sanctioned, if not Eric-encouraged.

I watched him inhale slowly, registering the scents that lingered, indiscernible to me, on my porch.

"You must have been distracted," I suggested, offering a saucy little smirk.

"Yes," he agreed, and whatever tension had crept into his posture seemed to fade.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," I sighed.

"I wish that too."

"Will I see you soon?"

"I will make sure of it," he said. I smiled again.

"Goodnight, Eric."

"Goodnight, Sookie."

I closed the door and trailed off to bed feeling more genuinely content than I had done in a while.

When I woke up just before noon, I felt the delicious ache of my wanton night in my body along with the peace of mind that accompanies the prospect of two days of absolute leisure. My hair was a tangle, but I brushed it quickly and pulled it back, dressing in jeans and a sweater. I put on my coat and went out to the porch to enjoy, regardless of the hour, what I would consider my morning coffee.

I caught the faintest whiff of someone's fireplace on the air, and thought once again of the idea I'd had a month ago to see about having a wood burning stove installed. All renovations had to be approved by the property owner of course, but I couldn't imagine her refusing. It would improve the value of the home. Aretha Fuller had gone to live with her son over in Marshall, Texas after her husband had died. She couldn't bear to sell the home where they'd lived and raised their child, but wanted to be closer to her surviving family. I sent my check off dutifully every month, and hardly ever had occasion to talk to her.

Come to think of it, I don't think we've spoken since the beginning of September, when I re-upped my lease. No, that wasn't true. I'd talked to Aretha right before Thanksgiving. I remembered the conversation about her sweet potato pie. She had serious opinions about nutmeg and evaporated milk.

I decided to call while I was thinking about it.

"Sookie! It's nice to hear from you. I was going to give you a call this week," Mrs. Fuller said. She had the kind of warm, friendly voice that I associated with my grandmother, though her accent wasn't as thick as Gran's.

I explained my idea excitedly, even adding that I already knew a good contractor when I thought of Randall Shurtliff. My heart fell the instant I heard the frown in her voice.

"I wouldn't object if you wanted to have one installed for _this_ winter, but that's related to why I needed to speak to you. You may want to hold off, because we finally decided over Christmas that it's coming time to sell that house."

"Wh-what?" I stuttered.

"Now don't worry, don't worry," she said soothingly. "We have an agreement and I mean to honor it. You're free to stay through the end of next August if you'd like, but we won't be renewing the lease for another year when it expires."

"Oh."

"We talked about getting it on the market by the beginning of summer, but if you wanted to leave sooner, that would be alright. There will be more to discuss later about the realtor if you decide to stay. I just ask that you let me know your plans."

"I'm going to need to get back to you about that."

"Of course, honey. That's why I wanted to let you know in plenty of time. As for the improvements, we're going to hire an inspector to come out and see if there's anything that needs to be addressed well before the house goes up for sale. Should be this month."

"Sure," I said blankly.

"So I'll keep you posted on that," she said. I could hear that she was wrapping up.

"Right. Definitely. I appreciate that. Thanks for letting me know. We'll talk soon then."

"Thanks Sookie."

I set the phone down carefully on the table. It wasn't that I thought I would live here forever, but I would be perfectly content to go one living here for the foreseeable future. I had the impulse to feel hurt, but that was silly. It was her house; she could sell it if she wanted to. What could I do? Nothing. That wasn't entirely true.

I could buy it.

Not outright maybe, not unless I tapped into emergency funds, but I could get a mortgage. I would probably be approved. I had a good and steady job.

Hopefully.

That would be a big decision. What if I bought it, and then got fired? What if Mintah closed Splendide? What if something happened and I had to leave? With Eric finding out about me, it had all worked out. At least, it all seemed to be working out. But what if Compton turned out to be a real problem? What if Niall's enemies found me? Buying myself out of a lease was something I could do, but you can't just walk away from a mortgage. I mean you can, but there are serious repercussions. Maybe if I fled the country entirely.

I should talk to Eric. He probably knew something about real estate planning when the possibility exists that you will have to vanish at a moment's notice. Then again, he might not have good advice. I doubt Eric had taken a bank loan on his house or to open Fangtasia. He was wealthy. His contingency plan might just involve just abandoning his property.

I should just find a new place to rent. It would be difficult to find somewhere that was as good a fit as this place, but I had time to search.

This was just a hiccup.

I spent a lot of time that afternoon searching rental listings. The biggest problem was finding somewhere with no near neighbors. This house was great not only because it was the right size for a single woman, but because of the size of the plot. There were dozens of listings for houses and apartments that looked so inviting in the pictures, but which I knew I could never stand to live in. Not if I ever wanted to relax in peace and quiet.

Everywhere isolated enough to accommodate me was out in the country. I guess a commute wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, if I never found anything better.

Defeated for the day, I went to bed early with my book. Much to my disappointment, Eric did not serendipitously appear at my doorstep to take over the reins from the male lead in my fantasy as he had done the night before. Nonetheless, I couldn't help but picture the dashing courier's flowing locks as wheat gold, rather than ebony as described.

I awoke early on Sunday with every intention of arriving at church to meet Gran and Hadley. Then I remembered my great grandfather's warning about staying away from my cousin and brother. I did need to warn them about the vampire, but as long as they were staying with Jason, it wasn't urgent. I deliberated for a few minutes before calling Gran to make my apologies.

"Oh, that's alright honey. We weren't expecting you." That stung a bit.

"You weren't?"

"Well I figured that's why you called on Friday, but it's alright. Jason decided to go off on a hunting trip today anyway. Hadley and I are going to have lunch with Maxine while they're out. I'm sure you'd be welcome, if you changed your mind."

I almost accepted, but wouldn't have been prudent or polite. I'd been in the situation of being the uninvited guest before. No matter how gracious a host may act, their mind can't conceal it if they're feeling put out.

"I better not," I said, dolefully. "But if it's alright Gran, could I take you to dinner this week? Just you and me?"

"Sure you can. Is everything alright Sookie?"

"Everything's fine. I just want to catch up a little. I can't help feeling a little out of the loop, especially now with you three all in the same house."

"I miss you too, baby."

"Thanks, Gran."

"You call me tomorrow night, and we'll make a date."

I hung up the phone and spent the rest of the day keeping moderately busy, but after the sun went down, a strange tension settled over me that I couldn't shake. There was a movie on television that I'd seen before. As I watched I thought I heard a noise from outside. When I muted the sound and stretched out my mind, there was nothing. It was as if I was waiting for a frantic phone call or some crisis to show up on my doorstep. Nothing happened.

It took a long time for my brain to settle down that night, and then I slept uneasily. It was a relief to arrive at work the next day, first again. I needed the distraction from my own thoughts.


	33. A Vampire in Her Cap

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris.

It would surely be unmannerly  
to ignore dear FiniteAnarchy.  
Though her name is hard to rhyme,  
I appreciate her time.

* * *

In the last chapter:

A lot of Brenda's recent stress has been caused by the continued presence of Ghellert in Louisiana. Mintah's agent has been monitoring the business and reporting to the owner.

Sookie seems happy about her growing friendship with Pam. Eric arrived hot and bothered after his first evening back at the club, and Sookie welcomed him with open arms. They finally got the chance to just enjoy each other's company, all thoughts of his most recent misjudgment set aside.

Sookie's landlady informs her that she intends to sell the house (much) later in the year, causing Sookie to debate the possibilities of buying a home of her own.

* * *

Chapter 33 - A Vampire in Her Cap

"I will buy this house as an investment."

Did he think I was asking him to do that?

"Eric, that's a terrible idea."

"Why? You can still live here. You can even continue to pay rent if you like."

We were naked and in my bed on Wednesday night. He'd turned up to bring the news that Bill Compton was back from New Orleans. Henrik Feith had been sent to Area 2 for safe-keeping, and the Queen was electing to let Arkansas stew in total uncertainty while everyone waited for Threadgill to make his next move. They ended up saying not one peep about the assassins.

Eric had praised her patience. I was just glad I wasn't a vampire. I didn't think I could deal with participating in the constant strategic game-playing. It was bad enough on the sidelines. He gave me an odd look when I said that. Afterward, the subject had gradually changed, leading us ultimately (and predictably) to bed, after a brief detour on the couch.

Immediately following sex turned out to be the right time for the current conversation. I could easily see myself getting annoyed with him if I hadn't been so blissed out. Orgasms make it much easier to take things in stride. That was a valuable life lesson.

"First of all," I answered, "I thought we decided a while ago that it was better if our relationship doesn't have a financial component." He didn't dispute that, so I continued, "Secondly, if a vampire owns the house, then all bets are off as far as me being safe inside it from other vampires."

"That's not true. If you live there, then the same rules should apply. You do not own the house now, but you were able to banish me from it."

"But it's not owned by a vampire either."

"It doesn't matter," he insisted.

"Are you willing to bet my life on that?"

"Right," I said, unwilling to give him more than a moment to consider that. "Anyway, it's more complicated than just who owns the deed. Otherwise vampires would never own any properties under their own names, so they could be protected from other vampires."

"No, that doesn't work," he agreed.

"I know. There's some kind of intrinsic link between humans and the concept of home that goes beyond the circumstances of occupancy or ownership. Magic isn't about loopholes and technicalities, it's about broad intent. The thing is, I don't think that I would be able to feel like it was my place the same way I do now, if you were the owner."

"Then I will just give you the money."

I was shaking my head before he even finished speaking.

"I just said, about us and money. Besides, what if something happened and I couldn't pay you back? I'm not going to do that to you."

"I said _give_. Sookie, it really isn't that much money."

"Yeah, I'm sure your accountant would love to hear you say that. Seriously Eric, I get that you're _way_ wealthier than me, but if your money really meant nothing to you, then you wouldn't work as hard as you do to earn it. So cut it out."

"I think you are being unreasonable," he said mildly. "Even in this day and age, it is not uncommon for a man to provide for his..."

"No. No, no, no. Don't," I cut him off, putting up my hands to halt the words.

"What?"

"There's only one acceptable word to end that sentence, and since I know you weren't about to say 'wife,' I don't want to hear it. I'm not your mistress. I won't be some kept woman."

"That's not what I was implying."

"But it's how I would feel. I don't exactly have a lot of freedom in how I have to live. I'm not willing to give up what little autonomy I do possess. Surely you of all people can understand that."

If we'd been arguing, I was pretty sure I would have just won. Since this was only a discussion, the abrupt silence that followed was wholly anticlimactic.

"Come here," he suggested. In all my wild gesticulating I'd managed to move away from him on the bed. I inched back into his arms. "You will find the answer. You have plenty of time."

That was all I really wanted him to say in the first place.

The following day, I was browsing the real estate section of someone's newspaper at lunchtime when Tray entered the break room. He set down a pizza box and a brown bag containing two bottles of tea and a po'boy sandwich before dropping heavily into the seat across the table. He said hello and I watched in mild astonishment as he devoured the entire sandwich in about three minutes flat. It didn't seem as though he even stopped to breathe.

He glanced up at me with a sheepish grin when I asked, "Hungry?"

"Yeah," he agreed, and flipped open the box to reveal the small pizza inside. It was the size which two women would split if they were in public, but which one woman could easily polish off by herself in the privacy of her own living room. Tray wasn't offering to share.

"How's your day so far?" I asked him, before taking a bite of the sandwich I'd brought from home.

"Little boring, but I can't complain," he answered. I heard that. I went back to my examination of the paper.

"You moving?" he asked, carrying on the conversation.

"My landlady is selling the house later this year. I can stay on for a while yet, but she kind of hinted she wouldn't mind if I left any time now."

"Huh. I thought you owned that house."

"No, I rent. I have to rent."

"Bad credit?" he asked in a low voice. He managed to sound kind as he asked, and I got that from his mind as well. He knew people who had that problem.

"No!" I said quickly, shaking my head emphatically. "No, it's just in case I have to...go," and I gestured to some unseen 'away.' "In a hurry. It's easier to walk away from a rental."

I looked away while he processed that. Tray was aware of my entire situation, but it was clear he hadn't really given it much consideration until right that minute. I hadn't made my confession to garner his sympathy. I spoke freely because it happened that I could. I regretted it as soon as I got the wave of pity off him.

"So if you happen to hear of anywhere in town, keep me in mind. I'm looking for something like I have now," I went on.

"I'll keep an ear to the ground," he promised, and I thanked him.

Brenda popped her head in then to inform me that the delivery truck was pulling up, which was my cue to finish eating quickly.

Evidently, some land developer in Ireland had unearthed an old fairy fort that might actually have been inhabited by real fairies at one point. Management had sent a part-demon agent to secure the site, and some of the findings were being sent for _me_ to process and catalog, for somewhat obvious reasons. At least, they were obvious given that the first and only organization the developer had contacted about his discovery was Splendide International, as opposed to, say, the Irish Office of Public Works, the National Museum, or one of the universities there.

It was dicey territory. Even if that country's laws did allow property owners to take the stance of finders-keepers, (and I wasn't entirely sure they did) it just seemed wrong. This was the kind of site that you donate to the public good so that students and field archaeologists can spend the next twenty years adding to the universal stores of human knowledge.

Instead, it would be cleared out and then plowed over.

He was probably building luxury condominiums situated too closely together to accommodate a telepath, too.

The fairy component was the saving grace. Keeping these things separate from the human population was one of our primary functions. We were lucky it had been Splendide that was contacted, although maybe it wasn't just luck. To put it politely, even in the human world we had a reputation for the utmost discretion. Either way, it was done. At this point I could only be grateful that Management thought of me, and I'd get a chance to examine the cache.

Brenda and I oversaw the unloading of the truck, and then began moving everything down to the lab. When Ghellert arrived later that afternoon, he stationed himself down there with me and watched silently as I went through all the preliminary checks and measures implemented to ensure we were not storing anything dangerous, reactive, or otherwise nefariously enchanted in the vault.

There was enough work to keep me busy for at least a couple of weeks.

My dinner date with Gran that night was interesting. She was the only one at Jason's house when I picked her up.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Hadley started her new job tonight," Gran replied, sounding pleased.

"Oh yeah? Where's she working?"

"She's the new waitress at Merlotte's. Jason's having dinner down there with some of his friends."

"Did you want to go there instead of LaLaurie's?"

I had to offer, but was glad when Gran refused. The quieter environment of Bon Temps' one nice restaurant was more suitable for a serious conversation.

"But maybe we could stop in for a night cap?" she suggested.

"Sounds good," I chuckled.

With that plan in mind, I had unsweetened tea at dinner, which was akin to sacrilege unless you happened to be dining with someone on a restricted diet. In the same vein, I ordered the sea bass, blackened not breaded. Gran got something with chicken. Once our salads were served, I dispensed with the chitchat and got right to the point.

"A vampire is moving in to old Jesse Compton's place?"

"Apparently he's Jesse Compton's antecedent."

"Is that so?"

"That's what he says. His name is Compton too. William Compton. He goes by Bill."

"Hm hm hm," she murmured.

"The thing is Gran, he's not here just for no reason. He's sort of here to spy on Eric."

"Your Eric?"

"Yes."

"Well then why is he moving way out here? Why doesn't he move to Shreveport?"

How to pare down the entire vampire hierarchy without actually revealing anything?

"Think of vampires like a fraternal order, like the Elks, only with women too. They don't seem to have any issues with women in positions of authority. Anyway, the nearest lodge is in Shreveport. So everyone from around here, Minden, Ruston, they all meet in Shreveport. So, him moving to Bon Temps, it's a really convenient excuse to get a foot in the area. Into Eric's lodge."

"And he's spying? For who, other vampires?"

"Yes."

"And why would that be?"

"Eric is a... long time and respected member of the group. You might even say influential. Other people are naturally curious about what he gets up to."

"And what is he getting up to?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "He's a good person Gran. As far as the lodge is concerned, he's totally above board – except for one thing."

"And that is?"

"Me. They don't know about my condition. He keeps that from them."

"I see."

"The thing is, they do know of me, through work. And they know that Eric and I are... attached, and this Compton guy knows you're my family. Our concern is that maybe when he realizes there's nothing to find out about Eric, he'll start looking at me, which means he'll start looking at you, and Hadley, and Jason."

"So what do we need to do?"

"Hopefully, nothing more than be careful. Try not to be out alone after dark. Never, under any circumstances, invite him inside the house. If he manages to get in, if he puts the whammy on Hadley or Jason, and they invite him, you rescind the invitation."

"Sookie, you sound really worried."

"I am."

"We'll keep away from him. We won't invite him in."

"If something happens, and you do end up alone with him, don't look him in the eye. If anything goes wrong, or you ever find yourself with a weird sense of confusion or lost time or anything like that, you need to call me right away."

"I hear you," Gran assured me.

"Good." I said, and let out a long breath. "I'm sorry to be putting another burden on you."

Gran slid her hand across the table to cover mine and give it a squeeze.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Sookie."

I smiled sadly, in the full knowledge that she was utterly powerless to prevent any of my worries from coming to pass. Nonetheless I was grateful for the sentiment. I squeezed her hand in return.

"So," she asked, giving me a final pat and returning to her food. "Things are going well for you and Mr. Northman otherwise?"

"I think they are," I smiled. "It can be difficult sometimes."

"All relationships can be difficult sometimes, Sookie," she admonished.

"I think it's safe to say that many of our problems are unique."

"Oh tosh. Tell me."

It was as good a segue as any to bring up the subject of the house, so I explained that, along with Eric's proposed solutions. Naturally Gran extended the offer for me to move back in with her, but she accepted in good grace that it wouldn't work for me.

"Well I'm proud of your decision," she concluded. "It might be different a few months down the line if you two are talking about getting more serious, but I agree it wouldn't be smart to accept his offer now."

"So you think it would be okay to let him buy the house if we were more serious?"

"Now that's not what I said. But if you two were talking about moving in together or something, that might be different."

"Gran!" I said, pretending to be scandalized. "Are you suggesting that we would live in sin?"

"That would be between you and the Lord. Far as I know, you couldn't get married even if you wanted to. I doubt God would count you a sinner on a technicality like that."

I let out a soft peal of laughter. I couldn't blame Gran for her hopes. Who knows? Maybe in six months time, Eric and I will be madly in love and his offer won't seem so crazy. It wouldn't have, I realized, if he'd suggested we move in together. It was still way too soon to take that step, but I knew that if he'd asked, I would have taken more time to say no. It was a moot point for now.

After paying the check I escorted Gran from the restaurant feeling happy. It was clear that getting Gran all to myself was going to become an even more rare occurrence in the future, so I had to enjoy it while I could. I found I didn't mind the idea of stopping in to see Hadley at this point. I think I would have been crushed if Gran wanted to eat there, but this was doable. We might chat with my cousin for a couple of minutes, but we'd still be on my time.

Merlotte's couldn't be less like Fangtasia if it tried. There was no one to check ID at the door, and no cover charge to pay. The décor reminded me of somebody's rec room, as opposed to the spooky boudoir feel of the vampire bar. We hovered near the door trying to figure out where we could sit so that Hadley would be our server. I spotted her concentrating hard on carrying a tray of drinks. She was dressed in a tight white t-shirt, tight black jeans, white sneakers, and a little apron. Reaching her table, she managed a weary, relieved smile as she successfully served her customers. I was glad she had finished before Jason hollered out, "Sook!"

There was a clatter and a blur as my cousin dropped and retrieved the empty tray, and then shot back up again with a wary look in our direction. Gran beamed and took off to say hello to Jason. I gave Hadley a little wave and pointed to the dining room with a questioning look.

She gestured in the general direction of Jason and then hightailed it back to the bar to retrieve the next round of drinks.

I came up behind Gran, peeking over her shoulder to see that my brother and his friends were all now sitting very properly, with hands folded on the tabletop beside their mugs of beer. I chuckled, guessing this was a far cry from their usual demeanor.

"You got Gran out bar-hoppin' on a Thursday night, Sook? Shreveport sure has changed you," he ribbed.

"Hey, it was her idea," I said, putting up my hands. "Clearly staying up with you and Hadley has been a corrupting influence."

Gran swatted at both of us and I smiled hello at Jason's friends, who I only vaguely recognized. When the playful banter died away, I steered Gran towards a nearby table.

She gazed around the place with interest, just as unaccustomed to the environment as I. We weren't temperance people or anything, though you still find plenty of those in the South (usually Baptists). Even before being saddled late in life with two young children, Gran never had a lot of extra money. I suppose not going out was as much a habit as going out. This was a novelty for both of us.

I watched as Hadley checked in on each one of her tables before coming to greet us. I was solidly locked down where my telepathy was concerned. It had become even easier to do that lately. I wasn't sure if that was an enhancement resulting from taking Eric's blood, or if I just had so much else on my mind anymore that I didn't notice the familiar strain.

"Welcome to Merlotte's," my cousin said, surprising me when she sounded almost shy. She set down two menus, and I smiled up at her. "Can I start you off with some drinks?"

"I think we're just here for the drinks," I told her, pushing my menu back. Gran had taken hers up with interest though, ready to play her part.

"Do you have any specials tonight, young lady?" Gran's eyes were twinkling with mischief. Hadley and I shared a smirk before my cousin informed our grandmother that they had chili with crumbled cheddar cheese tonight and Dixie Draft on tap.

"I'll have a Lime Rickey," Gran announced, with a happy smile.

"Sure," I agreed. "Lime Rickey for me too, please. Go easy though, I'm driving."

"I'll be right back," Hadley agreed, collecting my menu, but getting shooed away when she tried to take Gran's.

While she continued to peruse, I let myself open up a bit to try to get a read on Hadley. I told myself this wasn't invasive because I wasn't spying for a bad purpose. If she was uncomfortable with us being here; if we made her nervous or something, I'd make a point of our leaving quickly.

Hadley seemed to be doing okay. I overheard her explaining who we were to the barman, and it was at that point I realized he was a shapeshifter. Immediately I dropped my shields further and honed in on the other waitress and the cook in the back, both of whom were human. I must have got a distant look on my face because Gran asked if something was wrong.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed. "Just got a little distracted."

Hadley served our drinks but was quickly called away to tend to another table. The barman took the opportunity to come over and say hello.

"You're Hadley's family? I'm Sam Merlotte."

"Mr. Merlotte, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I just want to thank you for giving Hadley this opportunity."

I was glad for Hadley's sake that she was busy elsewhere. How embarrassing.

"Oh where are my manners? Adele Stackhouse," Gran said. She shook hands with Hadley's boss and began to pepper him with questions about the world of bar-owning. The conversation was eerily similar to one she'd had with Eric.

That parallel must have occurred to her at the same moment because suddenly she said, "Sookie's beau owns a bar up in Shreveport!"

"That right?" Sam asked.

"Yes sir," I said.

"What's it called again, Sookie?"

"Fangtasia," I answered, in a soft, clear voice.

"Fangtasia! Isn't that clever, Mr. Merlotte?" Gran asked Sam.

Sam fixed me with a hard look, making a noncommittal noise in response. That annoyed me. This guy had some kind of problem with vampires? Fine. In fact? _Good._ Maybe he'll keep the town's _latest_ resident, so to speak, out of the bar and away from Hadley. I didn't want my perfectly good mood fouled up by this guy. I narrowed my eyes at him before turning my attention back to my drink. What was in that Lime Rickey? It tasted just like Sprite.

The other barmaid signaled for Sam's attention, and he excused himself with a smile at Gran and another wary look at me.

"This is delicious!" Gran exclaimed. I heard the slurping sound from her tiny straw as it hit air at the bottom of her glass.

I found myself smiling indulgently. After everything she'd been through lately, Gran deserved a good time.

"Do you think we ought to order another one?" she asked conspiratorially.

I laughed. "So long as your doctor wouldn't mind."

When Gran placed her order, I asked for a cup of coffee and a glass of water. I finished both quickly which sent me to the bathroom for a pit stop before we were ready to leave.

I was washing my hands when the knock came at the door. There were two stalls. It wasn't single occupancy, but I guess whoever was outside might not know that. I called, "Come in!"

Sam Merlotte slipped in to the ladies' room and quickly flipped the lock behind him. That wasn't good. I straightened up immediately, snatching for some paper towels.

"You gonna tell me why the vampire is sending his woman to my bar?"

I guess he did know Fangtasia.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have anything to do with Shreveport, and I'm not under any vampire's jurisdiction."

"Okay..."

"What does Eric Northman want with me?"

"What the heck would Eric want with a shapeshifter from Bon Temps?" I asked with incredulity.

"How did you...?" he fumed, taking a step forward.

"You hold up there," I said, taking a step back. Thankfully, he stopped his advance.

"What are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

"I brought my grandmother to visit my cousin on her first day of work."

"And who is she? Who are you? _What_ are you?"

"She's nobody," I said quickly.

"What do you people want with my bar?"

"Nothing!" I said. "My cousin just moved back with our Gran. She needed a job, that's it! If anything, I wanted to see if this was a safe place for her to be working."

His mind frame jumped from angry to defensive in a heartbeat.

"Of course this is a safe place!"

"Good then!" I hissed back at him.

"What's a girl dating a vampire know about safe anyway, huh? Safe is a town like this, with no vampires around for miles."

"Shows what you know. There's a vampire just moved in to town last night."

That caught him up short. "No shit?"

"No shit," I replied. "He's supposed to be a relative of old Mr. Compton. He just moved in over on Hummingbird Road."

"What's this got to do with me?" he asked.

"Not a damn thing," I replied baldfaced.

I watched the wind go out of Sam's sails as the rest of his anger seemed to ebb away.

"Are you gonna fire my cousin now?"

"Is something gonna happen to me if I do?" he countered.

"No."

"Then I guess I won't."

I nodded. "Did you mean it about this being a safe place?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes," he said gruffly.

"You get other supes in here?"

He narrowed his eyes again. "Sometimes. Shifters mostly. Weres every now and then."

I nodded.

"Your vampire tell you all about _us_?" he said hatefully.

"I work for Splendide."

"I've heard of it."

"Then you know what we're known for. Listen Mr. Merlotte, you can hate vampires 'til the cows come home for all I care. In fact, if you can keep them out of your bar and away from my brother and cousin, all the better."

"I don-" he started to say, but then changed his mind. "I just want to be left alone."

"Tscha." The noise was out of my mouth before I even thought about it. "Yeah, don't we all."

He gave another little grunt, that I decided to take for agreement.

"I need to go take my grandmother home," I said, moving past him to unlock the door.

Gran had her coat on and was lazily stirring her empty glass when I returned to the table. I apologized for taking so long, then laid out some money, being sure to leave Hadley a good tip.

Gran was ready to go to bed, so I didn't stay after seeing her safely inside. On the drive home I reflected that working for a vamp-wary shapeshifter was arguably the best possible situation for my cousin. He was obviously saw other supes as a threat, which I considered a plus. He seemed concerned with protecting his interests, which I could only hope extended to his employees.

All in all, it had been a good visit.

I felt like a regular social butterfly when Pam called to invite me to get our nails painted the following night. I agreed immediately. It was another new place; Pam had clearly never returned to Lux Nails. I would never accuse Pam of being nervous about something so trivial, but I got the impression that she found comfort in the idea of safety in numbers. Her stated justification was that this sort of activity was a common ritual of female bonding in which we should be engaging. I just went with it.

It was shaping up to be a banner week on Friday morning when Tray broke the news that he heard about a house for rent on two acres in Bossier City.

"It's my ex-wife's aunt who is leasing it, but she's a nice lady," he assured me.

What an odd remark. If I judged everyone who had a relative that got divorced, I'd never be stopping.

I asked a few questions about it, and Tray answered as best as he could before giving me the aunt's contact information so I could get her to email me some pictures and maybe schedule a visit.

Ghellert was waiting in the lab once I'd checked my day's work load out of the vault.

"You are moving?" he inquired.

"I never figured you for an eavesdropper," I muttered. "Although I don't know why, since I've seen you do it."

"I don't think you should move."

"Well thanks. I don't think so either, but unfortunately my landlady doesn't agree with us."

"You should stay where you are for now."

"That's my plan," I agreed. "But I really do have to be looking. It'll take a while to find the right place."

"Don't make any agreements," he advised.

"Ghellert, is there something you need to tell me?" I frowned.

Rather than answer, he looked away.

"Ghellert?"

"You never know what will happen. You may not want to make a new commitment right now."

"Oh my god. Am I really getting fired?"

"Fired?"

"We know you're here to report to Mintah on how well we work here. Is this because I left early? I've more than made up that time. Ghellert, I really like this job. If I need to be doing something different, please give me the chance to correct it before you make your report."

"Mintah is pleased with your work."

"But then why are you saying...? What are you saying?"

He frowned again. "This is confidential until a decision is made."

"What decision?"

"Maybe you are not best utilized here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are going to be offered a position elsewhere."

"Where?"

"Edinburgh." Wow.

"What's going to happen here?"

"That depends on whether or not you accept the offer. Maybe this location will be human only, and 'eyes only' things will all be sent elsewhere."

"And if I don't accept?"

"Then maybe nothing. He will expect you to accept though."

"Why?"

"It will become the main branch, newer. Larger than here. You would have nonhuman staff. Your salary would increase. His offices will be there, and it will be more secure. Europe is a broader market, so you will be dealing with more and varied objects, especially fae. You will have the opportunity to travel with his entourage when need arises."

He spoke in a cool monotone, but each thing he rattled off sounded like a prize more enticing and elaborate than the last.

"When?"

"At the end of February."

"Why me?

"Why _me_?" Ghellert replied. "Why Hob? He likes you. You share his gift."

He shrugged. I guess not questioning Mintah is a habit that doesn't break even when you work closely with him.

"This is confidential," Ghellert repeated.

"When will he make the offer?"

"Soon. You must act surprised."

"He'll know I'm not."

"Not until later. I will explain."

"Wow," I breathed out.

"So do not make any agreements."

"Right."

He left, and I worked. You'd think I would have been distracted all day, with my head full of questions and worries, but I wasn't. Because Ghellert was right; this was a no-brainer. I left Splendide that evening with a spring in my step and a song in my heart.

It wasn't until I got home that it faded abruptly. Pam was waiting on my porch.

Oh right. Pam. My friend. Child of: oh right, Eric. My lover. Two things that had not been on Ghellert's list of wonders, along with: oh right, my family.

"Hurry and change your clothes, Sookie. We'll take my car."

"Oh. Right," I mumbled.

Mechanically, I did as she asked. I followed her to her car, then into the salon, then over to the comfortable chairs. She'd chosen my polish; a deep purple called "Vampsterdam." Her selection was called "Red Light District." We were on a theme, or the nail polish maker had been, anyway.

"Sookie," she snapped.

"Yes Pam?"

"Oh, there you are," she said, exasperated.

"Sorry."

"Something on your mind?" she asked. _Duh._

"I guess so."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"I really can't," I said. It was confidential.

"Women tell each other secrets, Sookie."

"Okay, Pam, you go first," I said, lowering my voice so that she would do the same.

"I killed my neighbor's dog this morning."

"Oh my god, you didn't!"

"You're right," she sighed. "I didn't. But I swear, if that mongrel shits on my lawn another time..."

"Jesus Christ, Pam."

"Now it's your turn," she said happily.

"I mean it Pam, I really can't tell you."

"Can you tell Eric?" she asked.

"No."

"Is it about Eric?"

"Not really." And I wouldn't even let myself begin to think about what he'd say about it when he knew.

"Is it about any vampire?"

"No."

"Is it about your house?"

"Not really."

"Is it about your family?" I should be keeping count. Had we reached twenty questions yet?

"Not really."

"Is it about your work?"

"Yes."

"Hm," she said, studying me. "Is it about a client?"

"No."

"Then it's about your boss?" Ding ding ding ding ding.

"Yes. Which is why I can't talk about it."

I had known as soon as Ghellert told me that the need for secrecy pertained to Mintah's plans for himself much more than it did to his plans for me. Until the offer was formally made, which I guessed wouldn't occur until Mintah had finalized his own part in the business, it wasn't my secret to tell, no matter what.

"Is it something we should know?" Probably.

"You'll know when I can tell you. Please stop asking."

"Is it something to do with..."

"My cousin got a job as a barmaid working for a shapeshifter," I blurted out, reaching for anything that might distract her.

Thankfully, this got no more response from the woman rubbing my feet than "I killed my neighbor's dog this morning." She had headphones on and was listening to an audiobook about wizards. If she only knew.

"A shifter?"

"In Bon Temps. I think he hates vampires, which is a good thing, no offense. He knows who Eric is."

"Lots of people know who Eric is. The name?"

"Sam Merlotte."

"Interesting."

"You know him?"

"No. He hates vampires, you say? Perhaps I should pay a call."

"Please don't. He seemed skittish about unknown supes in general. I only say it's a good thing because it makes it that much less likely that Compton will approach Hadley, if she's working somewhere that vamps aren't welcome."

"Vampires are welcome in all publicly operated establishments. It's the law."

She was correct, although businesses got around that by simply posting that they withheld the right to refuse service to anyone. It was a grey area in terms of civil rights, but even in the last couple of months there'd been a landmark case where a business owner had successfully proven that catering to vampire clientele would have resulted in a loss of other business. People had a right to defend their livelihoods. Maybe the world would be a lot better if everyone could judge vampires no differently than they judged anyone else, but until that happened, I could see both sides of the issue.

"I know it's the law," I assured her. "But you know what I mean, there's welcome, and there's _welcome_. Everybody knows you guys have places where humans aren't welcome unless they're on the menu."

"Actually, very few people know that," she said. "Besides, those are private clubs. The laws do not apply."

"Oh, speaking of private clubs..."

I relayed my explanation to Gran of the vampires as a fraternal order.

"So Eric is an elk," she grinned.

"Yup. You too."

"So Eric has horns."

"Yup."

"Eric has horns... Sookie, are you sleeping with your boss? Is that the secret?" For some reason she looked absolutely thrilled with the idea.

"What? Jesus Pam. No! I wouldn't cheat on Eric!"

"Too bad."

"Why?

"That would have been a very good secret," she said, sounding disappointed.

Thankfully by the time we left she had given up pressing me, and I had managed to snap out of my funk entirely. We carried on the conversation until she pulled into my driveway. The same feeling of uneasiness which had plagued me days ago crept over me and I didn't ignore it.

"Stop," I said, before she could get out of the car. "Drive away, Pam."

"Why?"

"Go, now."

We were already moving backward at a healthy clip when the car pulled in behind us. I lurched in the seat as the cars collided and Pam cut the steering wheel sharply to the side, rolling right over the lawn and the curb to reach the road. Once we were clear, she threw the minivan into forward gear and took off, only to find the way impeded as a car coming toward us turned broadside, blocking the street. The second impact came on the passenger side, my side, as she veered left around the obstructing vehicle.

"I'm never getting my fucking nails done again," Pam muttered, her eyes flashing back and forth between the mirrors and the road as we sped away. "Whose enemies are those?"

"They're vampires," I answered. It was all I had gotten, and all I had to offer her.

"Call him."

I was already dialing. I was thrown forward against my seat belt again as she made a hard turn. We were still being followed.

"Where are we going?" I asked as it rang.

"The bolt hole in Red Chute, if I can lose them."

"Hello?"

"Some vampires followed us or waited at my house and tried to trap us, but we got away and now we're trying to lose them in traffic. Pam's driving."

"You're in her car?"

"Yes. They've hit us twice." We hit them actually, but we weren't filing an insurance claim right now. It wasn't the moment for quibbling.

"How many?"

"Two cars. Three vamps I think. Maybe four."

"Come here."

"What? To the club?"

It was Friday night. There would be tons of humans there, but probably also a lot of vampires. Eric's vampires. They'd be crazy to follow us in or try to fight there.

"We're coming," Pam said loudly, making another abrupt turn.

Through the phone I started to hear Eric giving orders in a clipped voice. He wasn't talking to me. Looking back I saw two other cars making the same turn we'd just taken. Pam was giving her full attention to the road in front of us. I couldn't watch. I heard a horn blare as we blew past, and realized in the hind view that we'd just run a very red light.

"Are you still there? Where are you?" Came Eric's voice, louder again. I looked around but couldn't seem to get our bearings.

"We're two minutes away," Pam called out. He heard her.

We turned every head in the crowd waiting in front of Fangtasia as Pam blazed through the front parking lot and veered around to the staff entrance. Eric was at my door the instant we jolted to a stop, unfastening the belt and whisking me away inside.

Everything was a brief blur until he set me down on the couch in his office and I found myself suddenly alone in a room full of half a dozen vampires from Area 5.

* * *

A/N: I was pretty haphazard with review replies this last time. It makes me incredibly happy when people speculate, but it also makes it very tough to reply without giving things away. The point is; thank you very much. I am always grateful to hear from you, and thank you as well to those who continue to follow or favorite this story.


	34. His Own Vampire

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The birthday girl is FiniteAnarchy.

* * *

In the last chapter:

Eric offers to buy Sookie's house, but she refuses. She finally gets out to Bon Temps to warn Gran about Bill moving in. While in town she meets Sam, Hadley's new boss. He comes off as extremely wary of other supes, which Sookie considers to be a good thing where her family's safety is concerned.

When Ghellert learns that Sookie is planning to move, he's compelled to reveal that Mintah will soon be offering her a new position in Scotland. It's a dream job, except that it would take her away from her family and friends.

Pam and Sookie have a girls' night out that ends with a car chase as unknown vampires pursue them through the streets of Shreveport. On Eric's orders, they flee to Fangtasia, where the Area 5 cavalry awaits.

* * *

Chapter 34 – His Own Vampire

_Who is she?_

I wasn't sure if the question came from one vampire in particular or all of them at once. It was pretty freaking disconcerting that it came at all.

Eric took two of the vampires with him when he left and I was alone in the room with four others until Pam came to my side on the couch. Her body was turned toward me. If she were a human friend, I would have said her posture was meant to be comforting. Here, I recognized it as defensive.

Of the vampires that remained with us, I knew all but one, at least by sight. The pretty Indian woman who'd come to Luxe Nails was there, along with the bartender, Long Shadow, and to my regret, Bill Compton. The new guy was an Asian vampire whose chest and arms were covered with a beautiful pattern of intricate tattoos, like the kind associated with the Yakuza. If I were correct, that meant I was staring at a former Japanese gangster, and he was staring right back at me.

Eric did not make any introductions when he returned, alone. I suppose the two he'd taken with him were standing sentry outside or watching over the humans in the club. The others delved right in to conversation. What surprised me was that they were even debating who the car-chasers had been.

Though Pam was able to describe the vehicles with astonishing accuracy, she hadn't gotten a very good look at any of the vampires inside. That should have begged the question of how she knew they were vampires at all, but to my relief, nobody asked. Evidently there were plenty enough candidates. Maybe the were-witch coven had contracted some vampires from Florida, since they went after Pam. Maybe Mississippi, recently spurned from a marriage proposal, was information gathering. Boldly, given that this company included Bill Compton, Long Shadow suggested they were agents of the Queen.

"Obviously it was Arkansas."

The six pairs of eyes now focused on me assured that yes, I'd spoken that thought out loud.

"And why is that obvious?" Long Shadow sneered.

I took a deep breath. "We saw two Arkansas vamps as we were leaving the Trifecta, and they saw us. We're also pretty sure someone followed us to my home that night, which is where they tried to corner us."

"How do we know these are not _your_ enemies?"

Because my enemies don't use cars and wouldn't contract vampires to nab me, not that it's any of your business.

"I have no vampire enemies," I said. "Excepting Arkansas, if they realize I had something to do with their plot against Eric failing."

"Can you be certain about that?" Bill Compton asked. "I'm sure from time to time, people are displeased with you due to your work."

I frowned. "That's unlikely. All I do is assess. I have nothing to do with sales or people's money. If someone is unhappy with Splendide, they wouldn't blame me. Besides, the only vampires we have dealt with lately are the Queen and Arkansas."

As I said it though, a shiver of worry ran through me, because that was not entirely true. I thought of the vampire adjudicator's set that Mintah confiscated from Haagenti and gifted in parts to Eric and I. That would certainly piss off any vampires who heard about it. Eric was staring at me. Had he reached the same conclusion?

"I don't believe these were agents of the Queen," Compton said, in a calm, cool voice. He was no longer watching me, but turned instead to Eric. "If she needed to speak with either your human or your child, she would simply command you to present them to her."

"Yes," Eric agreed finally, confirming to the room that he would indeed hand me over to the Queen should she request it.

"They came for Pam and I together," I said. "If it were just me, or just Pam they were after, there would be better opportunities. From what I've heard, Arkansas is completely in the dark about what went down the other night. Their only lead is the fact that they saw Pam and I leaving."

"Sookie is right," Eric ruled. "Most likely we are dealing with Arkansas. I will inform the Queen of the attempt."

Pam gave me a reassuring pat. Good little human. I gave her a weak smile in return.

Eric got on the phone, speaking to the Queen, I guessed. The others were murmuring amongst themselves, except for Compton, who was back to watching Pam and I.

"What happens now?" I asked her.

"At the moment, we need to get you home, though I don't think I should take you. Why don't you call your Were?"

I guess the option of Eric taking me home wasn't on the table. He had some serious Sheriffing to do tonight. I assured myself that my getting home safely probably _was_ on his list of priorities, but that didn't mean he had to do it himself.

I dialed Tray to explain that some out of town vamps were making trouble, and asked if he was looking for another night of babysitting work.

"I don't think I can." He sounded conflicted. I envisioned him rubbing his neck with a grimace. "I've got my son this weekend. I'm off for two days in a row. We've got plans in the morning."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to bother you."

"No, it's alright, you didn't know. Maybe I could work something..."

"No," I said firmly, interrupting. "See your son. I'll figure it out. I'll see you at work on Monday."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yes," I said. "I just need to get home and stay put."

"Yeah," he agreed. "That place is a fortress."

"Right," I said quickly, not wishing him to say more. "Well you have a good weekend with your son."

"I will. You stay safe."

"Thanks."

"I can see you safely home," Bill Compton offered. "If the Sheriff would permit."

Everything went quiet again. I looked at Eric, still on the phone, but now looking at Bill. Pam shifted beside me. Eric started speaking again but was interrupted when a black vampire dressed in Brooks Brothers entered the office immediately after knocking. Maybe one of Eric's stocks just plummeted.

"Hold," Eric barked into the phone. "Yes?" he asked of the new arrival.

"Two of them just drove past the club. Arkansas plates. Sara has left to follow them."

It was an effort not to shoot Long Shadow a look of 'I told you so.' Eric acknowledged the words and signaled the black vampire, along the Asian one, to return to the bar.

"You heard that?" he continued into the phone. "Yes... They are... We will. Yes. Before dawn."

And with that, he concluded his conversation.

"Call the eagle," Eric told me, before turning away. "Long Shadow, you will need to make arrangements for another place to stay tonight. I do not think you or Pam should return to your nest. I need to see Colonel Flood. We have been ordered to watch the border. Thankfully they are traveling in cars, so it will be manageable."

Eric stood, gestured for the other vampires to follow him, and I was left alone. I didn't have Ghellert's number. I'm not even sure where he stayed when he wasn't at Splendide. It might have been the plantation home Mintah had confiscated, but for all I knew he'd built a roost in some tall pine out in the country. With nothing else to go on, I called Splendide. After the fourth ring, Holly's polite and professional voice reminded me of our business hours and invited me to leave a message. I hung up instead.

I could always just call a taxi cab. It would look completely innocent. Surely on any given night here, there are people who drink too much and can't drive home on their own. It wouldn't take much to disguise myself enough to get out the front doors and into a waiting car, just in case anyone was watching the club. The only problem would be getting from the cab to my front door, if people were still watching the house.

I presented this plan to Eric when he returned, along with the sticking point. He was now trailed only by Pam and Compton. He must be allowing the new man to shadow him. Hopefully he'd report good things about Eric's crisis handling.

"Compton, you will go to Sookie's house and make sure no one is lying in wait. Call us, and then you will wait there until she is safely inside before returning to Fangtasia. We do not want the people of Arkansas to be able to question her. If you are followed, then return here."

"Yes, Sheriff."

"Go now," Eric suggested, when Compton did not immediately stir to leave.

Without another word, Bill Compton left Eric's office. I started to speak, but Pam held up her hand. When she nodded to me a moment later, I realized she must have wanted to wait until he'd left the building.

"He didn't have to ask for my address," I said.

"No, he didn't." He sounded way too impassive. I had to wonder if Eric had used the opportunity to gauge exactly how deep Bill's interest in me ran. Probably.

"Whatever else he is," Pam said, "I do believe he is loyal to the Queen, and tonight, that's what's of consequence."

I tried my best to feel reassured, which I figured was her aim. I'd seen enough of their dynamic to know she wasn't vocalizing her agreement for his benefit. Pam might be subservient to Eric, but she wasn't a sycophant.

He returned to the front of the club after that, while she remained with me for twenty minutes until we got the all-clear from Bill; at which point Pam called the cab company. The incredibly brief conversation she had with the dispatcher informed me that I'd been right, this was routine.

I didn't see Eric again until Pam escorted me outside. He was sitting at a booth with Colonel Flood and a Were women I didn't know, and glanced up at me only briefly as I passed by. I was a little surprised that the Packmaster had come right over. After what happened with the witches, I didn't blame him for being overly cautious about strangers in the area.

The ride to my house was short, and the driver said very little. In his experience, drunks were not stellar conversationalists, and he had a long night ahead of him. I listened to the chatter over the dispatch radio as we drove. A car which I assumed to be Bill's was parked in front of my house, and I could see the faint glow of him as he stood on the porch. He was the only person, living or dead, in my range. I paid the man and exited the car, which drove off quickly as I sprinted for the safety of the front porch.

As soon as I reached Bill, I knew something was wrong. There was a foul smell in the air, like burned meat, but chemical. I realized too late that his hands were behind his back. His face was pained. He lurched forward towards me, showing fang and I stumbled backward.

Before I could tumble down the steps, a hand caught the back of my coat and I was pulled through the air into a hard, cold body. I gasped to scream, but as soon as I got the air in a hand clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite, but my teeth could not make purchase. I didn't know who was behind me, except that it was a vampire, and I tried to struggle but the other arm caught around my arms, pinning them down. I tried to writhe free but was hoisted off the ground again, and though my flailing legs made awkward contact, it wasn't enough to throw off my attacker.

I saw two vampires come up out of nowhere and move behind Bill, shoving him face first down the stairs. He landed hard with a groan and I saw the glint of silver at his back confirming that he was already restrained. Something caught my legs and then they were bound together. I was dropped abruptly and it was all I could do to get my knees under me so I didn't go the same way as Compton. I managed to keep my face off the ground before I was pulled back again by the arms and they too were bound. I'd dropped my little purse at some point. A woman had it in her hands now. I watched as she grabbed the phone from it, broke it in her hands, and threw it into the distance. I managed a single shriek of "HELP!" before I took a blow across the face, followed by tape across my mouth, and even more disturbingly, across my eyes and around my head.

For a long moment all I could hear or focus on was my own breathing, hard through my nose. I had to calm down. I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I cried out again, muffled now against the duct tape, as I was plucked up by the arms and carried with my legs dragging across the lawn. I was shoved in a car trunk.

Moments later something heavy fell on top of me. The burning smell was back, even more intense. With a whoosh and a final slam, I realized to my great dismay that I was now locked in here with Bill Compton. He began to thrash, not heeding me at all. I whimpered as his bound body made contact with mine, but if I thought that risk of hurting me would prevent him from trying to get free of whatever was binding him, I was mistaken. I felt the car begin to move.

The acrid smell grew worse, and it was all I could do to keep my head out of his way. I felt a tiny draft coming from somewhere. Maybe near the wheel well. I did my best to angle my face toward it, taking a bash on the cheek as Compton pushed me into the trunk wall.

_Eric will find me._ It was all I could think. He will know almost immediately that something went wrong, and he will track me down and find me. This is why I took his blood in the first place. I just need to survive until that happens. He'll check on me and realize I'm not where I'm supposed to be, and he'll come. He'll come. He could be on his way right now.

At some point Bill stopped pummeling himself, and me. Every once in a while he moaned. The sound was muffled. He must be gagged too, with silver. The smell as his dead flesh burned under the metal was nearly caustic. I knew it weakened them, but it was also excruciatingly painful. The metal would burn away their skin as it continued to knit itself. If they stayed in silver long enough, they would eventually lose the strength to heal. That would take days though; longer than a car ride. Vampires in that state were dangerous. As the car bounced around, and me with it, I kept losing my tiny stream of fresher air. I breathed shallowly.

Maybe I shouldn't be trying to keep calm. Maybe I should let myself panic. Could Eric feel my emotions over such a distance?

We banked hard. A sharp turn? Maybe my rescuers were already chasing! I just hoped to hell they wouldn't try ramming the car I was in to get us to slow down. Either way it left me part rolling, part sliding into Bill. My cheek brushed something else cold. Him? No. I bobbed my head, brushing the rough surface with the little exposed skin on my face, trying to ascertain what I was touching. A low growl sounded right in my ear and I jerked back as best as I could, gasping in the noxious air. His face. His face was covered with silver mesh. That's one way to subdue a vampire. I had to be grateful for it, considering my own position here with him in this enclosed space. Still, though I was uncomfortable, even in pain, he had to be in utter agony.

I rolled away as we turned again, and tried to find my little draft of slightly less polluted air. I never did. I thought we had slowed down some, but it seemed to only mean that we'd left the smoothness of the highway. The jostling became more regular on the bumpier road. We hadn't gone that far. Maybe we weren't too far inside Arkansas? Maybe we hadn't gotten there at all yet. I didn't know if Eric had already gotten his people watching the major roads. Could be that's what we were avoiding. That was my last thought for a while. We hit another pothole or something and I felt the top half of my body rise up in the air before slamming back against the trunk floor.

Next thing I knew I was weightless again, or rather, I was being dragged. My feet were brushing the ground and I was held up by my arms, folded behind my back. My head shot from side to side, not that it made any different. I felt the tape pull my hair as I turned, and gave it up immediately as a bad idea. I couldn't see. I heard someone, a woman, well, female anyway, comment that I was awake.

"Good," came the reply from behind me. Another female. I tried to get my feet under me, but we were moving too quickly, and they were still bound. I stumbled, bobbed, but whoever was hoisting me along didn't let me drop. I let my feet drag again. She was carrying me along at arm's length, like a bag of particularly smelly trash. The ground felt rough. There was stuff. Leaves, twigs. I inhaled. We were in the woods. Yeah. That narrowed it down.

The tops of my ankles suddenly collided with one, two, ow, three somethings... steps... before we moved inside of somewhere. It wasn't any warmer, but the air was less fresh. I was dropped to my knees on the floor; wood. A moment later I was strung up, literally. My arms were folded behind my back. Someone looped a rope around my forearms and tugged hard, pulling me to my feet and then just a smidgen higher. I squirmed, struggling to get my arms into a better position so I wouldn't jerk them out of their sockets should I lose my balance on my tiptoes. I managed to clasp my hands around the opposite elbows, which at stabilized me somewhat. The pulling on my arms forced my back to bow slightly towards the floor. I didn't think I could last long like this.

There were two vampires in here with me and three outside, moving. I was pretty sure that one of those was Bill. They must be taking him to a different building. It couldn't be close to dawn yet – no way I'd been out that long – but, maybe they were storing him in a light tight place anyway. I had no idea. I hoped to hell I'd be out of here before dawn. Any time now, _sweetcheeks_.

A vampire moved in front of me and inhaled deeply.

"This is the one. She reeks of Northman," said the first male voice I'd heard.

Jesus Christ. They weren't sure? What the hell would they have done if I hadn't been who they were looking for? On second thought, I didn't want to know the answer.

"I'll remove the gag now. You can scream. In fact, I reckon you will, if you don't tell us what we need to know, but no one who cares will be able to hear you."

His voice sounded so common. Deep baritone, slight southern accent. It could be any man at the grocery store. A neighbor. My guess was that it belonged to a vampire who was from around here, which meant maybe not that old.

The tape was peeled back off my cheek slightly, and then abruptly ripped from my face. It took some skin from my lip with it, and I did cry out, and then I panted. Then, disgustingly, I felt a cool tongue lave across my mouth. I guess I was bleeding.

"Delicious," the male voice commented. "I can see why your Sheriff keeps you around."

I let out an involuntary whimper and tried to pull back, sucking my lips between my teeth. It hurt. God. Everything hurt, and I knew we hadn't even begun.

"Enough," snapped one of the females. I think it was the one who said I was waking up. She moved closer.

"Your name is _Sookie_ Stackhouse," she sneered.

Was I supposed to confirm that? I didn't say anything. Mistake. She slapped me across the face.

"You will answer my questions," Slap-happy informed me.

You didn't ask a question, bitch. "Yes ma'am," I breathed. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

"You were at the Trifecta Casino with Pam Ravenscroft, the child of Eric Northman."

"Yes ma'am."

"Where is Pam Ravenscroft?"

"She was at Fangtasia. When I left, she was still there."

"And where is she going to ground tonight?"

"I don't know."

Another slap.

"I don't know!" I said more emphatically. "Eric said she couldn't go home, but I don't know where he's taking her!"

"Are you a witch?" she demanded.

"No?" What?

"What witch put the wards on your house?"

"I..."

Slap.

I didn't answer, and got another blow for it. This time she lifted my chin to give her a better target. I couldn't out myself, and I wasn't about to give up the names of the only witches I knew, Octavia and Louis. It hadn't been a witch who put the wards on _my_ home.

"D-demon wards. They're demon wards."

She grabbed my jaw again, tightly.

"Which demon put wards on your house, human?"

"Mintah! It was Mintah! One of Mintah's people, I don't know his name!"

She let go of my jaw then, and stepped back. For an instant I foolishly believed that the name had scared her, then the rope jerked higher, and my toes were barely touching the ground. For a minute my feet skittered around scrambling to make purchase before I resigned myself to mostly hanging. I put all my strength into keeping my arms tucked to my back, so the pull from the rope wouldn't wrench them as much.

"Does Pam Ravenscroft stay in your home during the day?"

"No."

"Does Eric Northman?"

"He stayed one time only."

"Where is the resting place?"

"I don't have one. He stayed in the closet in my spare room and we put blankets all around the door. I don't have vampires staying with me. Please," I begged. "my arms!" It was to no avail as she ignored me.

"Why were you leaving the Trifecta with the Sheriff's child?"

"Eric had her come to take me home."

"And why were you there?"

"I...overheard something and I wanted to help Eric."

Someone kicked my knees from the side and I cried out as I swung slightly.

"_What_ did you overhear?"

"Three guys... at a diner... were talking about Eric and what would happen to him. I just didn't want anything to happen to Eric."

"Fucking Weres," said the male vamp from beside me. I guess he was the kicker.

"She's lying," the female said viciously, assuredly, correctly.

"Then take off the blindfold," the male said.

Oh no. Oh no, no. I wouldn't have a choice about outing myself. Suddenly the rope was loosed and I crumpled to the floor, dragged back into something like a sitting position by my hair. A hand fell heavy on the top of my head, and then came the ripping. I would have taken a hundred more slaps. I felt my hair come out in huge hanks by the roots as she ripped the duct-tape-blindfold off. I did scream, but the male had been right. No one who cared heard me.

I went into something like a fetal position, bending my chin to my chest and pulling my knees up. I should have known that wouldn't be allowed. I got a kick to my back for that, letting out another groan. My ears were still ringing and my head was on fire.

"Can't," I panted. "Can't glamour me. It won't work."

I was grabbed the hair again and wrenched upward so I was looking into the face of a brown-haired woman. It might have been one of the two I'd seen at the Trifecta with Pam. She was white-skinned, with dark brown eyes and full lips. Probably gorgeous like every other vampire, but her whole self looked ugly to my eyes.

"And why is that?" she snapped.

"Part...demon." My voice was labored from the pain.

She exchanged a look with the male, who was also white and sandy-haired. I would have said he had a boyish face, despite the sinister look in his eyes. Like a frat boy gone evil, or the Good Son. I shuddered involuntarily and Slap Happy turned her attention back on me. I felt the pressure on my mind immediately as she tried to exert her will. Her strongest attempt was not as strong as Eric's, and I'd had no trouble resisting him. She frowned in concentration.

"Who is your sire?"

"My parents are d-dead. Desmond Cataliades is my sponsor."

She hissed.

"You know him?" Sandy asked.

"He works for their Queen," she replied. "He has been here. The fat demon lawyer."

"She can't be glamoured because she's a demon?"

"You tasted her. Does she taste like a demon?"

"I've never had one."

"You would remember," she said dryly, and turned her attention back to me. "She doesn't smell like a demon. You are lying to me, blondie."

"I'm not," I promised. "I swear I'm not. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Those three guys, I don't know what happened to them, but I think one died at the hotel, and one of the vampires died, and the other one, they took him to New Orleans."

"Where his Henrik Feith?" she demanded.

"Area 4. Eric said he's in Area 4," I answered.

"What did you hear at the diner?"

"Just that they were going to do something to Eric. They were talking about what could happen to him. I didn't want anything to happen to him."

I'd started crying when she ripped my hair out, and I felt my eyes burning now. I _was_ in pain, and I hoped it was all enough to be convincing. I also hoped Bill Compton wasn't over there telling them any more than I was.

Evidently she thought it was time to check, because she left abruptly. If I thought that meant reprieve, I was mistaken. It only meant Sandy-hair didn't have a supervisor.

"If you're not a demon, what are you?"

I didn't answer. He kicked my ass, hard. For all the times that expression gets thrown around, I'd never experienced it literally before. I felt my insides churn, and a dull pain shot down my legs. I tried to curl up again, pulling down against my shoulders as if that would shield my back, but my hands weren't free. He yanked the rope up again very suddenly and I was on my knees. He came close and inhaled again, letting out a low moan.

"You smell like blood and fear," he hissed in my ear. "You're going to die tonight. It's only a matter of how quickly and painfully that happens. We haven't even begun to break your bones. You have a lot of those."

"I've told you everything I know," I croaked out.

"She doesn't believe you." He inhaled again, grabbing the hair at the name of my neck in his fist and jerking my head up. "There are other things we can do before you die."

He licked my neck. I thought he hummed. I felt the faint scrapes of his fangs and had to force myself to hold. I screamed as he bit and got a hand clamped over my mouth. He hoisted me up further, pressing himself against me and suddenly he was ripped back. I felt the skin tear at my neck, but that pain barely registered. All I could see was the furious face of Eric before he brought a heavy sword down on the neck of Sandy, whose shout was...cut short.

I slumped to the ground again as the rope was cut.

"Get her free," Eric ordered, and only then did I realize that he hadn't come in alone. Someone behind me was ripping through the tape on my arms. I never thought I'd be so glad of the stench of carrion. Ghellert.

"Someone is coming," Eric said quietly. He was by the door. My arms freed up, but it wasn't the relief I'd been hoping for. Spikes of pain radiated through them and shoulders, wrenched beyond reason with limited circulation for... how long? I couldn't help my groan as Ghellert moved away quickly, flanking the other side of the door, opposite Eric. I rocked up onto my butt and started to force my numb fingers to work at the tape binding my ankles. They'd done a thorough job. I couldn't rip it. What I wouldn't give for some of that vampire puissance.

The vampire halted before the doorway. I could be seen, partway escaping. She shouted, and Ghellert reached out an arm that ended, not in a hand, but four scaly claws tipped with digit-length, wicked black talons. He lunged out, seizing the vampire by the face, the talons sinking horrifyingly into the mouth and eye sockets. The vamp scrabbled at the eagle's wrist, but Ghellert pulled him into Eric's reach, and my viking finished the job. Ghellert flung the head away, before returning to me. He had a far easier time slicing through the tape.

Eric helped me to my feet, his expression fierce. He reached to touch my neck or my chin, and I flinched. A softer look flitted across his face for an instant but it was quickly replaced by more fury.

"How many more?" he asked.

"Two, and Bill."

"I'll take her. You distract," Eric said.

"No," I said, stepping away from him, and turning so I could see them both. "Go together. They have lots of silver, and they're strong. They got Bill easily..." I trailed off.

"I'll fight better if I shift again fully," Ghellert said.

"We should leave him to rot," Eric growled. "That would solve another problem."

"Or create one," I argued. "He'll talk eventually. They've got him in silver, and you know he's suspicious of me. They know something isn't right. She tried to glamour me."

"Something is coming," Ghellert interrupted, and Eric's head shot to the open door of the dingy... I guess it must be a hunting cabin. I looked around for the first time. There were no furnishings. The wood floor was littered with spatters of what was presumably my blood, along with bits of rapidly disintegrating vampire.

"How many?" Eric asked again. He was talking to Ghellert, who had his head cocked with avian focus. I pushed out with my mind, scanning in all directions. The three, away somewhere to the left of where we currently stood, were the same three. The others were approaching quickly. I felt as the voids moved into my range.

"Two," Ghellert said.

"Three," I corrected, and pointed at a spot on the wall which corresponded to the direction they were coming from.

"Change," Eric ordered Ghellert, but he was already doing so.

"I can help," I said.

"You can barely stand."

Eric and I shared a long look, both studiously not turning towards the sickening stirring and grinding sound that accompanied the bodily transformation of the shapeshifter. There was the sharp clicking of talons on wood, as Ghellert hopped and flew out the door, tucking his massive wings as he went through. They would have to fight outside; he was designed for dive-bombing, not close quarters.

"Go," I urged Eric. They didn't have much time.

He reached across his back and pulled something from the scabbard he had strapped to himself, offering me a knife, blade first. I realized immediately that was because its tip was silver. He only touched the handle.

"Stay," he ordered. "Unless you must leave. We will try to keep them out."

He stared hard at my face for another moment until we heard Ghellert scream from outside, not in pain, but a battle cry, and then Eric was gone. I moved to the corner adjacent to the door and started rolling my shoulders, which hurt like a bitch. So did the rest of me, but I couldn't dwell on it. I wish I could see the battle, but I couldn't risk drawing any more attention to myself. He was right; if I just stayed here, maybe the new comers would assume I was still restrained, and ignore me.

I followed the blank spots with my mind. It was easy to tell where Eric was, both because he was familiar, and because he was taking a page out of Ghellert's book. They were both doing aerial assaults, though Eric stayed on the ground for longer. One was brought down quickly, but once they lost the element of surprise, it as a real brawl. One of the vamps who had been with Bill entered the fray, keeping my rescuers at a disadvantage of numbers. They seemed to be moving further away, which was good in one part, but bad in another.

I knew from researching harpies that Ghellert would be adept at fighting from the trees, but Eric seemed stuck on the ground then, and I could only hope the eagle was providing a consistent enough distraction that he wouldn't be cornered. I heard Eric's bellow as one of the vampires blinked out of my perception entirely, and then the last of Bill's and my captors was out, away from him, and heading to the fight. There was shouting in two languages I didn't know; whatever Eric spoke, and something that might as well have been Swahili. I started to panic again. Just wait here. How can I just wait here when I could be of use?

I wasn't going to get in the fight, but I could rescue Bill, and maybe he could help them. They were along into the woods now. I crept out the door. I checked again. There was no one close.

There was only moonlight and the dim light from a single window in the crappy cabin outside. I blinked quickly, willing my eyes to adjust. Bill was in another long shed. I could see light coming from the open door. We must not be too far from civilization if there's electricity out here, and considering how quickly the reinforcements must have arrived...

Bill was chained to a chair, his head slumped to the side. The silver mesh had been folded back so it only covered his eyes and head. I guess they needed his mouth free so he could talk. He snarled as I approached.

"Bill, it's me Sookie," I whispered. "Don't bite okay? I'm going to get you out. They're fighting, and... they could use you. Can you fight?"

"Free me," Bill demanded angrily. I took that as a yes.

I pulled at the mesh and it peeled away like half-dried glue, with the same snapping, tacky noise. He rocked hard in the chair, which was bolted to the floor, and I backed off for a moment in fear, until I saw his teeth clenched and realized he was only trying not to scream. They hadn't needed locks; only silver chains that pressed against bare arms and legs where they'd ripped the fabric of his clothes out of the way. As soon as I got an arm free, he reached for the other to do the job quicker but recoiled as his fingers touched the metal. I got the other arm free and started on his legs and he kept shoving his hands in the way, like a child who simply refuses to learn that the stove is still hot.

"Just let me!" I barked.

"No, let me," said Slap Happy from the doorway.

She was on me in a second, pinning me to the ground. I didn't have a lot of strength left in me, but even if I did, it wouldn't have been enough. Hell, I'd been stymied by duct tape, and this was a healthy vampire. The knife Eric had given me, the knife I'd dropped beside Bill's chair so I could work with both hands to free him, was out of reach.

"I know what you are," she snarled at me. "And I'm to take you to my king, fairy, but if you die attempting to escape, no one can blame me..."

Just as suddenly her weight was off me as Bill stood over her, grappling at the ends of the silver chain as he pulled it around her neck with cloth-covered hands. She struggled and kicked, and he stumbled backwards taking her with him. I grabbed for the knife, got to my feet, and just as he pulled her up against his chest, I ran forward and stabbed the blade in to her heart. She screamed, and the sound amplified in the empty room, and it seemed to come from outside as well. Bill dropped the body. He lunged for the door and broke it. He grabbed a shard of wood and drove it into her back for good measure, but the bitch was already crumbling. I watched as her fingertips dried, blackened, and turned to ash.

I looked at Bill, whose face and extremities were still a bloody horror.

"Eric," I breathed.

Bill kicked the corpse over, plucked the knife from its chest, and was gone. I took the jagged little stake he'd made and clutched it tightly. Eric was going to come find me in the other cabin. I had to go back there. I should have run, but I didn't have the energy. Now that I focused on it, walking in itself was kind of a problem. That's why it took me so long; why I was still outside when the eagle came soaring from the direction of the fight. It landed, hopped, and flew another few feet, low, and repeated the process. Limping. Injured. At least he'd gotten away.

A streak of red bolted past me. Ghellert jumped, turned, and came bearing down on the vampire, but he hadn't enough time to generate speed, to build the kinetic energy that made him lethal. She grabbed for his talons, let them tear her, and still managed to seize his leg, and snap it. He buffeted her with his wings, but she pulled him down. Like Eric, she too had a whopping great sword in her hand. There was nothing I could do but watch as she swung it around and then down, cleaving deep into the eagle's breast.

Eric was there. He was on her. He and Bill. Two on one. They finished the fight quickly. I crawled to Ghellert. I don't know when I got to my knees. He was changing, going back to human shape. I stroked the last few feathers as they receded, turning into legs, hips.

I tried to cover his wound with my hands, but I couldn't. It was bigger than my hands. The red woman had cut the bird nearly in half, and Ghellert was split from shoulder to groin.

"Go," he breathed.

I shook my head. I wasn't leaving him. We hadn't left goddamned Bill Compton. We weren't leaving now.

I found his hand and clutched it, bowing my head over him. Crying again.

"Sookie. Go," he told me.

"Sookie, he is right, we must leave." I barely heard Eric, but Ghellert did.

"No," Ghellert said, with the last of his strength. "_Go_."

I knew what he was telling me. He didn't mean here and now. He meant all of this. Arkansas, or wherever the hell we were, Louisiana, these vampires, their Weres, their witches, everything.

Go.

His fingers went limp in mine and I let out a wail. Dead. My savior. My _friend_.

Eric picked me up and I let him carry me away.

* * *

A/N: The chapter title comes from this quote by Helen Keller, "As the eagle was killed by the arrow winged with _his own feather_, so the hand of the world is wounded by its own skill."


	35. A Vampire Is Trimmed

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The beta for this story is FiniteAnarchy. She's spectacular. Thank you for your thoughtful critique, well made points, and reassurance-on-demand. I (and you readers) are lucky to have you!

Sorry this is a weensy bit late, and a bit long. Blame Bill.

* * *

In the Last Chapter:

While Eric was forced to focus his attention on securing Area 5, Bill was sent to Sookie's home to make sure the coast was clear before she returned to the protection of its wards.

Before managing to get inside, Sookie was abducted, along with Bill, and taken away by the Arkansas vamps. In a brutal interrogation, Sookie was questioned about Pam's whereabouts and what happened at the Trifecta.

Eric and Ghellert arrived, saving Sookie from being drained by one of her captors, and began fighting the abductors and their reinforcements. Realizing Bill had been left alone, Sookie freed him to join the fight. Their side ultimately won, but not without the cost of Ghellert's life.

* * *

Chapter 35 – A Vampire Is Trimmed

My physical pain and the cold were the only things that felt real to me as we fled. Bill clung to Eric's back while my vampire carried me in his arms and flew us in that awkward grouping back south. Bill's face was still ghastly, but he would heal. Not like Ghellert.

I was doing poorly at estimating the passage of time. I think I must have passed out or maybe just shut down for a few minutes. I don't think we traveled very long before Eric landed us. Bill let go of his back and slumped to the ground. Eric lowered set me on my feet more gingerly, but I still clutched his arm to keep me from swaying. I wanted to drop as well, but I feared I wouldn't be able to stand again if I did. I noticed for the first time that Eric was injured too. In the dim light, his skin looked even more starkly white than usual, and the blood smeared across his chest and arms was almost black. His jeans were sliced across the hip and thigh, and there were wounds visible beneath, not yet done knitting together. He needed strength to heal and to get us the rest of the way home.

"Feed," I said, offering my neck.

"Sookie," he admonished, glancing at Bill. Were we playing school rules? No eating unless you brought enough to share?

"You need to get us out of here," I told him, without much authority. My voice sounded weak and airy, but needs must when the devil drives. I trusted him to not take more than I could spare. "Please," I implored.

I winced as Eric swept my hair aside, choosing the same spot as Sandy. He didn't bite. His tongue was no cooler than the air outside, but it was wet. He stroked across the wound I had, no longer bleeding, but still raw. It numbed slightly under his ministrations; I only felt the sting as it dissipated. I didn't understand why he would refuse to drink. I would recover. Unlike Ghellert.

Eric picked me up again, and Bill got up as well. Before we took off I realized that Bill's feet weren't touching the ground. He was floating. Could he fly too? I guess not, or he wouldn't have had to latch on to Eric. At least Eric wasn't burdened with the weight of us both.

I learned later that while Ghellert hadn't answered the phone at Splendide, he was aware that I had called. He met Eric at my house when he came to investigate, and the two of them came together because they were the only ones that could fly. Eric and Ghellert could travel fastest, with the least chance of being detected inside enemy territory.

The rest of Eric's vamps stayed back, following the Queen's orders that the area be secured against the threat of invasion. Unwilling to waste the time or risk refusal, he hadn't bothered to ask permission before launching the two-man rescue. They caught up to us fairly quickly, Eric told me, but fearing the odds, they'd been forced to wait for the most opportune moment to swoop in and do the saving. All bets were off when the one started feeding off me.

It was barely before dawn when we reached my house. I didn't invite Bill in, and Eric knew better than to suggest it. He ordered Bill to go to ground in my back yard. Feeling steadier on my feet, I heated blood for them both while Eric set about putting up blankets over the window in the spare room again, then lining the interior of the closet. He took both the bottles I offered and brought them to Bill outside. He must have helped bury him, because he returned dirty. I didn't have the energy to care about the mess he tracked in.

There wasn't any time for talking. It felt like there was a hell of a lot to say, but I didn't know where to begin. I thanked him for coming for me, kissed his cheek as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs he'd put in the makeshift hidey-hole, and then shut him inside.

I wanted to sleep too, but I couldn't. I made my way through the maze of connecting phone calls until I reached Mintah.

"Miss Stackhouse, how interesting that you should call me."

"Ghellert is dead," I said dully. There really isn't a way to lead up to that kind of announcement.

Mintah was quiet for a moment before asking, "How did this come to pass?"

"He was killed by a vampire from Arkansas. She is dead now too."

"Do you have his body?"

"We had to leave it," I whispered.

"I see."

"Will you please inform his brothers?"

"Yes."

He offered no further comment, no instructions, and asked no questions. Finally I asked, "Is there anything that I should do?"

"Such as?"

"I don't know. Anything, for his family, or you. I'm sorry. He died trying to save me."

"I will be in Louisiana within the day."

"Okay. I'll tell Brenda."

"There will be no need."

He disconnected the call. I made my way to the bathroom, afraid of what I would see in the mirror. I didn't turn on the light. I ran a warm shower, careful not to let the water get too hot, but quickly found that the spray on my skin, particularly my face and scalp, was too intense. I switched to a bath and lowered my upper body into the water by millimeters.

My breathing grew labored as I washed my face and then my hair. I had to, because there was blood. It hurt like a bitch. I used a lot of conditioner, doing my level best to ensure it was tangle free before I got out, but it was difficult. The sun had risen enough by then that there was no avoiding my appearance. My face was purple and swollen where I'd been struck. There were bruises all over my body. Combing my hair out was excruciating, both from my scalp and from the act of lifting my arms. I forced myself to gulp down a cocktail of ibuprofen and multivitamins, and drank a lot of water. Even the weight of the glass in my hand seemed heavy.

I slept for several hours, and woke to Bobby Burnham clonking on my front door. He presented me with a shopping bag full of clothing for Eric, along with several plasticine bags of blood that he informed me needed to be stored in the fridge.

I wondered if any of them were for me.

"There's a new cell phone in there which has been programmed to your number. You'll need to charge it."

I looked beside me and saw my purse sitting on the little table near the front door. Strange. I hadn't really bothered questioning how we'd gotten inside earlier. I guess Eric must have found it when he'd come to look for me, along with the broken shards of my old phone. Those were nowhere in sight.

"Thanks," I managed.

Bobby didn't scamper off my porch like he usually would.

"Is there something else?" I asked hoarsely.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" I replied.

"No," he answered.

I closed the door in his face and went to put the blood away. I peed, drank some more water, then went back to bed, leaving the clothes outside the door of Eric's room.

He woke me just after dusk.

"There's human blood for you in the kitchen," I told him, and glanced down to see him holding the bag. "I see you found the clothes."

Apart from his ragged garments, Eric looked fine.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Thank you for the phone. You should shower," I urged him. "I'm betting you're going to have a busy night."

"Let me heal you."

"No," I replied, getting out of bed on the second try. Ignoring Eric, I slipped my feet into sneakers and pulled on my coat, trudging outside.

Eric's car was on the street outside. I guess Bobby had brought it over at some point. Bill Compton was in the back, smoothing down a mound of dirt with his feet. Like Eric, he looked better, though perhaps not top notch. His clothes were in even worse shape than Eric's; on top of being ripped and torn, they were also filthy.

"You can come inside for a shower," I offered. "And Eric's man brought some blood. I can put your things through the wash, though I don't know how much improvement that will be."

"I have clothes," Eric said from behind me. His things wouldn't fit Bill well, but the tailoring was not my problem.

The three of us went inside. They showered. I made myself a peanut butter sandwich. I boiled some water and put a couple of the blood bags in it to warm them. I wasn't too sure about microwaving the real stuff. I had to use the spray nozzle to fill the big pot, and then slide the damn thing across the counter.

Thankfully, Eric emerged first. He found the blood and bit right into one of the bags, before retrieving the remaining ones from the fridge and tossing them in the pot as well. He offered the other already-warm one to Bill when he joined us. He filled out Eric's t-shirt pretty well, though it was long. He'd had to use his dirty belt on the jeans, which bunched around his ankles, but it wasn't terrible. We ate silently. I was waiting for them to leave.

"Did anything happen today?" Eric asked.

"I slept all day," I said. "Bobby woke me up when he banged on the door, and then I went back to sleep."

"Have you called your boss?"

"Yes."

"I will need to speak with him."

I said nothing. I wasn't Mintah's secretary, and couldn't promise any kind of meeting.

"The eagle died bravely," Eric said. "I will inform him of this."

"He died a warrior's death," agreed Compton.

I didn't have any reply. I knew that these were _the things you say_. The things that are meant to be comforting to those left behind. I had said the same to Mintah. Ghellert died saving me, but the bottom line was, he died. Was my life worth any more than his? I didn't think so. It wasn't that I thought I was better or worse than Ghellert, but it wasn't a fair trade. I knew that the two in the room with me could never understand this. They traded other lives for their own all the time. They affected that _directly_.

Eric was watching me, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at paisley pattern of my winter tablecloth instead.

I'd caused deaths before as well, so maybe I too should be immune to this by now. It wasn't the same. Ghellert would not have hurt or killed me. He had saved me. He was dead because of me.

I couldn't even share that burden with the other person who was rescued. Despite the platitude, I didn't believe Bill Compton cared. I also knew that he was something of an extra. Ghellert had come for _me_. Saving Compton had just been convenient.

I pushed back from the table and brought my plate to the sink to wash, willing them to take the hint. I shut off the water and turned around, interrupting some kind of exchange between Bill and Eric.

Bill stepped forward slightly and offered me a deferential nod. "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Stackhouse. Sheriff, I will wait for you outside."

One down, one to go. We heard the front door close.

"I know you grieve," Eric said. He wrapped his arms around me and I could not help but reciprocate. "I am sorry that he died."

"Are you?"

"Yes," he said sincerely. "He was a worthy ally."

"He was a good person," I said.

"Do not wallow in this guilt," Eric told me.

I recoiled. "How can you say that?"

"It was his decision. His duty."

"It was not his duty to die for me!"

He didn't argue the point. He did gather me into his arms again, though this time I merely stood there.

"I have business in the Area that must be attended to," he said. "I will return tonight, when I am able."

"You don't have to," I said quickly.

"You do not wish me to?"

"I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now," I said honestly. "But I think I could use some time alone."

He considered that for a moment and then said, "I want you to stay here, where it is safe. I do not believe they will come for you again, but I don't want you taking any chances."

"Where am I going to go?" I asked bitterly. To see my family, and possibly lead more harm to them? Not likely. "I can't even leave the house looking like this." People would probably think he beat me up. Well, not Eric Northman specifically, but my boyfriend. I looked every bit like a woman who'd been slapped around.

"You want to keep these injuries so you can condemn yourself every time you look in the mirror." He sounded disgusted by the idea, as if blaming myself were somehow an unreasonable response.

"I will keep them to remind me _why_ he died," I answered quietly. "And they'll still heal too quickly." I wasn't being melodramatic, but rather thinking of the fact that I still had Eric's blood in me. Even without another infusion, I would recover quickly. It was incredibly screwed up, actually, that my life had progressed to the point where I could pass up healing, because I was still good from the last time.

That was because of Eric.

It wasn't his fault. Well, I didn't blame him. Mostly. It was because of him, though. Because of my association with him, and the things I'd chosen to do because I cared about him.

"You should go. I'll call you... if Mintah needs to speak with you, or, if... I'll call you," I finished.

I got that deep, brooding look of his again before he turned to go. I followed him to the door, so I could lock it behind him.

"Make sure that you rescind Compton's invitation," was the last thing he said to me.

I watched him shift to his car in a blur. Bill looked up at me and gave a simple nod before getting in, as if he'd heard Eric's order and was acknowledging it with no hard feelings.

I locked up.

While I was thinking of it, I called Gran and made my apologies again about church in the morning. They were showing Lawrence of Arabia on one of Jason's cable channels, so her plans for the evening were set. She hurried me off the phone with a promise to call me the following day.

I tried to clean up some of the mess from my overnight guest, folding blankets and picking up discarded clothes. Compton had managed to get his damp towel onto the rack in the front bathroom, and his grubby clothes were folded into a tidy pile and placed on top of the little garbage can in there.

I went back to sleep.

I woke at mid-morning, surprised that I'd been permitted to sleep through the entire night without interruption. I was grateful though, because my body had obviously needed it. I'd expected Mintah, or maybe Pam to show up. I didn't even have any missed phone calls. I changed my clothes and ate breakfast, then set to researching on the computer how to cope with bald patches when your hair gets ripped out by the roots.

It showed. It wasn't just little tufts that could be covered by other hair until it grew in, but big patches right on the sides. The tender skin was still pink, and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried a loose ponytail, but even in the faint silhouette reflected in my laptop screen I could still tell it wasn't right. I might have to shave it all off. That idea was a lot more devastating than it should have been. I didn't think the G.I. Jane look would really suit me. My arms started to hurt again from lifting them to fuss with my hair. I knew that was a much more serious issue.

Hair grows back. Torn nervous tissue does not. At least, I was pretty sure it didn't. Again with the "messy" sciences, and me having no clue. Identify an unknown metal based on its molar mass? No problemo. Pass me the graduated cylinders. Innards, they just work. I'd give it another day or two, and see how my arms felt when they've had a chance to rest and recover. After that, maybe I'd see a doctor. Get some physical therapy, if needs be. I wasn't being a martyr when I refused Eric's healing. I just hadn't wanted to wake up as if nothing had happened.

Mintah arrived late in the afternoon. He was flanked by two guards, Ghellert's brothers. They did not look at me, and they did not enter the house when I invited the demon in. I offered refreshment and he asked for tea. I gathered it together as quickly as possible, along with some probably stale cookies that hopefully he wouldn't eat anyway. I served in silence, keeping my eyes averted from him.

When he finally spoke, it was after a few minutes during which the only noise in the room was the delicate clinking of teacups on their saucers.

"Josiah Spode, late eighteenth century bone porcelain. Very nice."

I looked over at him, and then gasped. The fact that he'd picked up the cup and saucer together, and had been raising and lowering the cup should have tipped me off, but I was not expecting what I saw. Mintah had lost his hand in the battle with Haagenti's people. It hadn't miraculously regenerated. The teacup was, by all appearances, suspended in the air just beyond the cloth-covered stub of his wrist. He'd been holding it up to examine the maker's mark on the bottom, and now lowered it once again. I blinked.

"It's not a complete set," I answered. "The creamer and my cup are reproductions."

"Very fine, nonetheless." He took another impassive sip.

"Thank you," I nodded. "Your..."

"My hand, yes." He held out his invisible hand, as though inspecting his nonexistent fingernails, turned it over and gave an infinitesimal shrug. "Are you familiar with the concept of a phantom limb?"

"Like when someone gets his leg cut off, but sometimes he still feels his foot itching?"

"Yes."

"So you have a phantom hand?"

"I lived with my hand for an extraordinarily long time. Evidently, though it is no longer attached to _me_, my mind remains rather attached to _it_."

"Amazing," I breathed. I wanted to touch it, but that would be a breach of all decorum.

"I wish to hear your account of the events Friday evening," he said.

"You should speak with Eric. He was with Ghellert nearly the entire time."

"I have spoken to the vampire," he said. "Now, I will hear from you."

I'd told him vampires were involved, so I guess it wasn't much of a leap for him to go to Eric himself.

I told him everything, and Mintah was kind enough to relay what I did not know about the events of Friday night. I didn't stop there. I ended up on a long tangent, going all the way back to explain what I knew of the situation with Arkansas: the Queen painting a target on Eric's back, the mysterious death of Waldo, the investigators coming to Shreveport, the Weres coming to Splendide. It all led ultimately to Ghellert's death, and Mintah deserved to know why.

He let me go on until I'd talked myself out. It felt like a confessional, and there was some relief in saying it all out loud. Maybe that's why his clipped and angry voice shocked me so much when he finally did speak.

"What I fail to grasp is why I am hearing about this for the first time right now."

"I didn't think..."

"No, that is plain," he cut in. "Tell me, if these Arkansas Weres had succeeded in doing more damage, what would have been the response of Louisiana's Queen, once she learned that they had a stopover at Splendide before carrying out their crimes?"

"We can hardly be held responsible for what people do with the objects we sell them." I heard myself arguing and wondered briefly what the heck I was doing before blundering on. "Besides, they were buying a gift _for_ her. It was just a ring, a good luck charm."

"Oh yes?" he asked. "Suppose she chose to assume we were complicit in their crime, or else a willing alibi? How did your last round of reasoning with angry vampires play out?"

I felt my face tense. Of course that hurt, which basically answered the question.

"I'm sorry for my error in judgment," I said more docilely. "At the time, my first concern was preventing them from doing harm."

"It is sheer luck that you did." He paused before continuing, "One of the reasons you are well suited to your job, Miss Stackhouse, is your lack of other loyalties. We cannot serve the community of supernaturals as a whole if any one faction believes that we favor any of the others."

"I know that, sir."

"And yet." He left it there.

"What would have been the appropriate response?" I asked meekly.

"To inform Ghellert of what you overheard, and certainly not to leave work to interfere with the dealings of other clients."

"But then they would have succeeded!" I argued back, and then checked myself, adjusting my tone. "I know we are not to interfere, but this was personal."

"They planned to harm you? Your family?"

"No, but Eric is my lo..." I came very close to saying 'loved one,' but stopped just short. "My lover," I finished.

"I was given to understand that he is something of your protector, through a financial arrangement."

"That's no longer the case."

"He is no longer your protector?"

"There is no longer a financial arrangement. He protects me because he wants to."

"I see he is doing an excellent job."

"Hey!"

I clamped a hand over my mouth, then lowered it. Ow. I took a deep breath, tried to count to ten, and got as far as five before saying, "This is not Eric's fault." I gestured to my own appearance. "It may have happened because I chose to involve myself in his affairs – but he is not to blame."

I said it for my own benefit, as much as Mintah's.

The demon gazed at me for a long moment. I met his eyes and used the time to finish calming down. Whatever he was looking for in my mind must have satisfied him. I got a wave of that off him along with something else that seemed positive. I still didn't dare to probe Mintah's mind without express invitation, but I couldn't help receiving the emotions he exuded.

"I will expect more prudence."

I nodded again, feeling relieved.

"Continuing on the subject of future practice," he began. I glanced at him. "Are you content in your current position?"

I knew where this was going. Sorry again, Ghellert. I couldn't manage to feign surprise, but Mintah didn't seem very disheartened.

"I'm happy in my work," I answered.

"I would like you to come and work for me."

"I do work for you."

"You are aware of my meaning."

I nodded again. For the next couple of hours, Mintah and I discussed the prospect of me moving to Scotland. We stopped only so I could refresh the tea and turn on some lights as the afternoon wore on. Though he'd been planning to relocate anyway, the theft at our branch had driven home to him the need for increased security on the Supe side of things. Vampires coming out of the coffin, and everyone's belief that the Weres were eventually headed the same way, meant that we could expect a greater interest in supernatural artifacts in general. Mintah's new facility would be Eyes Only, and like Ghellert had indicated, we would need additional staff.

Mintah wanted me to have a hand in the head-hunting process to fill those positions. He didn't use that phrasing of course. I didn't like to think of Mintah going head-hunting. He made a point of letting me know that we'd bring on people with the right sort of minds; minds that I could tolerate spending time around without needing to shield. I wondered if he sometimes had the same problem.

Even when we spoke of the travel I'd be doing with him, the theme of the conversation was strongly focused on security and a trustworthy entourage. The prospect was exciting. I hadn't expected to feel happy about something again for a while, but there I was. It was nice to dream and to plan.

We glossed over the logistics of a move. I'd need a visa, which shouldn't be too difficult to obtain, considering the specialized field of our work. I'd need a place to live, too. Assistance with these things would fall to Leonard. Mintah's clerk handled all the workaday dealings.

"I take it, then, that you are prepared to accept the offer," he concluded.

The question succeeded in bursting the bubble which up until that point had been filled with a lot of the hypothetical. It was the same feeling I'd had coming home on Friday evening, when my happy imaginings had faded instantly upon seeing Pam. It wasn't as though I'd leave nothing behind. I'd never had much in the way of a 'life,' but that only meant that the people who did fill it would be that much harder to let go of.

"I'm prepared to give it serious consideration," I said carefully. "It would be a big change. There's a lot to think about."

"I see."

That was obviously not the answer he was expecting.

"When will you need my decision?"

"I expected to have it tonight."

"Oh."

"I've spoken with your Prince. He gives his full consent."

"You talked to Niall?"

"And Breandan as well," he said dispassionately. Sensing the spike of panic in me, he continued, "I didn't mention you to your great uncle. I saw them both, as a courtesy. The fae still maintain a presence in some of the more far flung parts of that country."

I wasn't sure if that should be considered a selling point. Either way, you wouldn't get fae in a big city like Edinburgh. It was only Niall and those closest to him that had the gloves which afforded them casual contact with the iron that was everywhere.

"He supports the idea? Niall does?" I asked.

"Entirely," Mintah nodded.

"I need some time to think. Is this off the table if I don't give you an answer tonight?"

We were interrupted then by a commotion outside. Looking at the windows I realized it was well past full dark. Eric was outside being refused entry by Mintah's guards. He wasn't fool enough to let it come to blows, but he was pissed. I excused myself to try to diffuse the situation, which was stupid. It's not as if Mintah's guards would take orders from me, even if this was my house.

Mintah gestured his men to stand down, and Eric was allowed to pass over the threshold.

"As requested, I am here to show your people to the battleground," Eric announced. He managed to sound unruffled. "However, I would like to speak with Sookie before we go."

"You're free to do so. Sookie and I have only been discussing a proposal."

Maybe he won't ask.

"What proposal is that?"

Instead of answering Eric, Mintah turned to me. "We'll speak tomorrow. You won't be expected at Splendide. Remain here and continue recovering from your injuries."

"Thank you," I said.

"I will wait for you outside, Viking. Do not be long."

Once Mintah was through the door Eric hissed, "That creature is infuriating."

"He must like you or he wouldn't acknowledge you at all," I shrugged.

"How are you feeling?" Eric asked more softly. He ran his hands over me very lightly, barely touching my face and head.

"Sore," I admitted. "But I've gotten a lot of sleep and that seems to be helping some."

"What is the demon asking you for?"

I sighed. I didn't want to do this now, but there wasn't much choice. "He wants me to relocate."

"Where?"

"Edinburgh, Scotland."

"No."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Pardon me?"

"No," he said matter-of-factly. "He will not be taking you."

"Don't let's have an argument," I said wearily.

"There is no argument. You are _mine_, and you will remain here."

I gave him a small smile, even though I didn't think he was kidding. "You and I both know that I'm only _yours_ as long as _I _wish to be."

"And so, you are saying you no longer wish to be," he said flatly.

"No. I'm not saying that."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything," I frowned. "He asked for an answer. I couldn't give him one."

"You're considering it."

"Yes, of course," I nodded up at him. "On top of the fact that it's an amazing opportunity, Eric look at me."

"I have offered to heal..."

"That wouldn't erase the reason!" I cut in. "God, Eric. Do you not see I'm in over my head with all this?"

"_This_?" he asked.

"Your vampire shit. I can't be a target for vampires, Eric. I won't survive. It's my fault, not yours. You didn't force me to get involved, and you have no idea just how much I appreciate that, but as long as I am with you, I _am_ involved because I care what happens to you."

"Arkansas will not come after you again." He didn't sound as certain as he probably meant to.

"They know I belong to you, and they can't do their takeover without going through you at some point. They know I'm part fairy, Eric, or else somebody made a lucky guess. If it's not enough that I'm associated with you, I'm a tasty morsel that they'll kill after you're dead. Or maybe even in front of you."

"Then I'll turn you."

"What?!" I didn't quite get my mouth closed after blurting out the word. I stood there staring at him with my head cocked and my mouth agape in a weird grimmace that pulled at my cheeks.

"I'll turn you. You would make a good vampire, and once you are, there will be no need to be concerned about your fairy blood. Or your grandfather's enemies," he added as an afterthought.

I couldn't believe he was being serious. Deep breath.

"Eric, that's... crazy. I don't want to be a vampire, and even if I did, I'd just be swapping one set of enemies for another, or have you forgotten there is _a kingdom _actively trying to take over this one?"

"That won't happen now."

"This from the man who thought the 'say nothing and wait' plan was rock solid." I rolled my eyes.

"We killed Threadgill's second in command last night, Sookie, along with six others. He is no longer in a position to take over anything. In fact, Sophie-Anne is considering striking now before he has the opportunity to reestablish his base."

"Eric, do you not see that this is never ending? Either way it will be a bloody fight, which you will inevitably be a part of. And what happens when the next state comes along? She'll have even greater assets to tempt them."

"Then we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I don't want to come to it, Eric. That's what I'm saying. You obviously thrive on this turmoil and fighting, but I don't."

"That's not true." He sounded...offended?

"How is it not true? You love to fight." The only time I'd seen him more gleeful was during sex.

"Yes, but I do not enjoy living in conflict and turmoil. That is not the same as the act of fighting."

"That's bull! Why would you even settle here if you wanted a quiet life?"

Eric gave me a sardonic look. "Northern Louisiana is not exactly a hotbed of unrest, Sookie. Like you, I simply want to carry on my life in relative peace."

"I didn't mean Northern Louisiana. I meant America. It's full of young countries and ambitious monarchs. If you really wanted peace and quiet, you would have stayed in Europe."

"Sophie-Anne is neither young nor ambitious."

"Well that makes one. Out of how many?"

He didn't have a response to that. I stepped closer to him, threading my arms around his waist. I was glad he didn't step away.

"Eric?" I asked. He put his arms around me in kind. "I haven't decided. There's a lot to consider and... you're part of that, just so you know. Maybe I wouldn't admit it so easily if you hadn't just offered to be stuck with me forever as a maker, but I just want you to know that you're a reason I would stay."

"And a reason you should go."

That too. I'd already said enough on that account.

We stayed in the embrace for a short time before he went, leaving me with a chaste kiss. He had to lead Ghellert's brothers to the place where he had died, in case there was anything left to recover of his body. I didn't know how likely that was. Eric promised he'd return before dawn. Whether that meant he was pushing up my decision deadline, or if he just knew we had more to say to each other, I wasn't sure. At that moment, he couldn't keep Mintah waiting.

The place where Bill and I had been taken was on the outskirts of Ouachita National Forest. It was maybe a three hour drive, though I wasn't certain they would be taking a car. Either way, I had some time on my hands before Eric got back. It was time I would use for thinking, and for answering difficult questions. Maybe for asking difficult question, too.

My hat was itchy, so I draped a silk scarf around my head before putting it on. It was a small improvement. I slipped my dagger into my coat pocket, just in case. I saw the eagle perched on my roof once I got in the car and turned on the headlights. I didn't wave or anything. It wasn't anyone I really knew.

The drive to Bon Temps went by quickly. The house looked dark from the outside, but there was a car in the driveway. I knocked. The porch light flipped, along with a light in the foyer. I blinked at the sudden brightness as the door swung open.

"Miss Stackhouse, to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Bill Compton.

"I need to talk to you."

"Do come in," he offered, stepping back. "I'm sorry that I have very little to offer you by way of refreshment."

"I didn't come for your sweet tea, Mr. Compton," I replied, stepping past him and into the house.

I might have been in here once or twice when I was young, accompanying Gran on some visit. Nothing looked familiar. It was an old house that could benefit considerably from fresh paint, new carpets, and a reliable contractor.

"Why did you come?" he asked. "Is the Sheriff not with you?"

"Eric's with Mintah's peple," I said, finishing my look around. I followed him through to the sitting room. _"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly._ The room had a stale air, as formal living rooms can tend to. It probably hadn't seen much use in years, and Bill Compton was obviously not a great entertainer.

"You'll have to pardon the appearance. I am afraid in the last few years of his life my great great grandson allowed the property to fall into some disrepair."

"You have a lovely home," I replied automatically. "Maybe you could shed some light on why you chose to live here."

"As I told you, this was my family's home. I am the last living Compton."

"For a given value of the word _living_," I said dryly.

"Perhaps I should have said surviving."

"Are you working with Arkansas?" I asked bluntly.

"I beg your pardon?" The cool tone of his voice sounded odd when mixed with his deep Southern accent.

"I'm not really up for the subtle games at the moment, and there's no sense in beating around the bush. Are you working with Arkansas? Did you help them to capture me?"

"I certainly did not," he said. "Perhaps you have forgotten that they captured me as well."

"When?" I demanded, "and how?"

"I've already reported to the Sheriff's satisfaction," Bill said.

"I'm asking you to tell _me_. I think I deserve to hear it."

"I checked the property as instructed. I found no one there. I made the call. I was told the area immediately surrounding the house is protected by wards, so that is where I waited for you to arrive." I nodded and he continued, "If that was the case, our abductors found some way to break the magic. I did not expect an attack. Three of them set on me, binding my hands in silver. I was told to stay where I was. They didn't want to risk you driving away if you did not see me. They threatened to stake me if I allowed you to reach the front door."

I took that in. At least he hadn't been lying when he made the call.

"The wards aren't broken. They protect me from those trying to harm me. They don't protect vampires I have no reason to trust. From where I stand, it would be good if they had killed you."

"If that is your opinion, why did you compel Eric to save me?"

I ignored that.

"What is your interest in my family?"

"Which one?"

I thanked being a telepath for my ability to control my expression. Instead of my mouth falling open in shock, I managed to return his smug little smile with a narrow eyed stare. I'd need to be careful about pursuing this line of inquiry, but I had to know what he knew.

"I knew Jonas Stackhouse when I was alive. He was a decent man. I am sure he would be pleased to see that his line continues," Bill said, with a nod toward me.

Jonas Stackhouse had built the house across the cemetery from where we sat. Though he wasn't technically related to me, I had learned his name in the context of my ancestors.

"I know your sponsor, Desmond Cataliades, of course," he continued. "And Diantha and Gladiola. They are cousins of yours?"

"Yes," I confirmed. For all intents and purposes. They were as much family as Jonas Stackhouse.

"And yet, as Jennifer Cater pointed out, you do not smell like a demon."

"Jennifer Cater?"

"She was among the vampires who held us. The brown-haired woman."

Ah. So Slap-happy had a real name. 'Had' being the most important part.

"There is an interesting scent threaded through the woods here. I could not place it at first. It is quite alluring."

"Oh?" I asked. If he was looking for a straightforward admission, he wasn't going to get one.

"It's similar to your own scent, although a deal more concentrated. It's present around your house as well. Oddly though, there's only the faintest hint of it to be found at your brother's residence."

"Stay away from my family."

"You can hardly blame me for being curious about the neighbors."

"I'll make it clear to you here and now, Mr. Compton," I said, leaning forward in my seat. "Given your new proximity, if any harm were to come to them at vampire hands, you will most assuredly be blamed."

We shared a long look, and I didn't flinch.

Eventually he said, "I have no intention of doing them, or you, any harm."

"I hope that's true."

I sat back again. He took another moment to study me.

"I can see why the Sheriff is interested in you, even beyond my other suspicions."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"You're an interesting woman. I had believed it was simply because you are part-fairy, or perhaps because of your job, but there's more to you, isn't there?"

It was the usual vampire arrogance.

"If you're trying to pay me a compliment, you're not doing a very good job."

"I notice you don't deny it."

"Did you tell this Jennifer Cater that you believed I was part-fairy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it would have saved your life."

There should have been a buzzer or something. That was so wrong.

"They would have killed you," Bill continued. "You could not be glamoured. They would have continued to abuse you until you succumbed to your injuries or else they would have killed you outright."

"You seem pretty sure of their intentions."

"They're vampires. Why would they keep a human alive to escape or endanger themselves during the day, unless she had some other value?"

I tried to keep my tone even and serious as I answered, "So you told them I was a fairy. You just said you didn't intend to harm me. You didn't think telling them that would be harmful to me?"

"I had no notion that a rescue would come so soon, if at all. I was buying you time. Consider it the lesser evil."

"Except now Arkansas knows..." I trailed off. So much for not giving him confirmation.

I took a second to collect my thoughts. "Do you know much about fairy politics?"

"I can't say that I do," he answered. Not surprising.

"There's going to be another war between the clans. Do you know why?"

Of course he didn't.

"They can't really live in this world anymore, because of the iron. They're a dying race, you know? Some of them think exposure to us, to humans, our world, and our iron, is the cause of that. They want to close off their world from us. Some of them hate humans. Most especially, they hate half-breeds. Do you know why you smell fairy in the woods here?"

I didn't really expect him to answer so I just continued.

"It's because some halfling came here, hoping to use me in trade for her own life," I answered, glossing over most of the story, especially the fact that it hadn't been just me she was after. "This thing you think you know about me, is something that will get me killed. These people aren't vampires. They're not going to snatch me away in the dead of night when no one is looking. They come in broad daylight, when I'm with my family."

"What happened to her?"

Way to take the pertinent point.

"I killed her."

I let that sink in.

"My family is human. They don't know about supe stuff, and they _can't_ know, because they'll never understand. Somehow, that doesn't stop them from being in danger of other people's _suspicions._"

"Why keep contact, if that's your fear?" he asked.

"Because they're my family," I answered.

"When a vampire is made, he is taken from his family," Bill observed. "Both for his preservation, and for theirs."

"You had a family?" I asked, and wanted to thump my own forehead. Obviously he had a family if he had descendants.

"Yes. I was made not far from this house."

"And you never saw them again?"

"Never. My death was made to look like an animal attack. We left the area as soon as I had risen."

"Did you miss them?"

He gave me an odd look. I couldn't blame him. It was a pretty personal question.

"Why do you ask? Are you considering being made vampire?" he replied.

"No," I said quickly.

We sat quietly for a short time, presumably lost in our respective thoughts. At least I was. That was the second time tonight someone had asked me about becoming a vampire. I almost wished that was the decision on the table, because the choice in that case was a much simpler, 'no thank you.'

The silence started to grow uncomfortable. Even after the lengthy conversation, I found I was no less annoyed with this vampire.

"Eric is loyal to your Queen, you know," I blurted out.

"I should hope so."

I knew it probably wouldn't make a lick of difference, but this had been bothering me since he arrived here. This was my chance to speak my mind to Compton, so I was going to take it.

"I'm pretty sure he could live anywhere he wanted. I mean, you'd be dumb to refuse him for an ally."

"Your point?"

"He chose to live in Area 5. We know you're here to keep an eye on him. That just seems like a waste of time to me. He's good to his people, and he's obedient to the Queen. He agrees with her, the way she thinks."

"Thank you for that unbiased opinion."

I frowned. We hadn't really managed to come to any kind of accord. The most I could say was that I did believe he meant no harm. That wasn't to say he couldn't do harm though, or that he wouldn't, if push came to shove.

There was a knock on the front door. Bill glanced at me before standing and excusing himself to answer it.

I stood as well, following after him a moment later. It was definitely time to go.

Mintah stood in the doorway beside another of the eagles. Had they all come to Louisiana?

"Good evening again, Miss Stackhouse."

"Sir," I replied, dipping my head.

"I expected you would remain at home tonight," he said to me.

"I did not expect to be out, but I needed to speak with Mr. Compton about... what happened," I said, and found myself averting my eyes from the eagle.

"Sasha and I are here with the same goal in mind." He turned to Bill, saying, "Mr. Compton, this is one of Ghellert's brothers. We wish to speak to you about his death."

"I was given to understand you'd spoken to the Sheriff," the vampire said.

"So we did. Now we will speak to you."

The whiff I got off of both him and Sasha was nothing good. It was definitely, _definitely_ time to go.

"I should be getting home then," I said quickly.

"That would be wise," Mintah agreed, without turning his eyes from Bill Compton.

I said goodnight and hurried over to my car. The three of them had vanished inside before I managed to switch on the ignition.

* * *

A/N: The chapter title comes from Gertrude Stein's Tender Buttons, in her discussion of Objects. "A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive." It's about looking at things not for what they are (even in contrast to what they are), but strictly in relation to other things.


	36. Prettier Vampires

A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The beta for this story is the awesomely erudite FiniteAnarchy.

* * *

In the Last Chapter:

Despite injuries, Eric was able to get himself, Sookie, and Bill back to Shreveport. Unwilling to erase the evidence of her night of torture, Sookie refused Eric's healing and spent most of the weekend resting to aid her physical recovery.

Mintah wasn't pleased to learn of the role Splendide has played in vampire machinations and chastised Sookie for her involvement. Sookie didn't make up her mind about the new job, but Mintah ensured she was forced to tell Eric about the offer when he arrived to lead the eagles to the site of the rescue/battle.

Sookie went to see Bill to get some answers about what he knows of her and her family, confirming that he's the one who told Arkansas she is a part-fairy. Mintah and another of Ghellert's brothers interrupt the meeting, causing Sookie to leave in a hurry.

* * *

Chapter 36 – Prettier Vampires

"You were sleeping?" Eric asked, gesturing to the pillow and blanket I'd left on the couch when I answered the door. It was after two when he finally showed up. It was _nice_ somehow, like he was returning home after long day at work.

"Off and on. How was it?"

"Solemn."

"There was something to recover then."

It had been two nights. Even if Ghellert's body wasn't desecrated by vampires from Arkansas who came to discover why none of their people returned home, it had still been exposed to the elements, other animals...

"Yes," Eric agreed. "_Something_."

I was grateful he didn't elaborate further.

Eric seemed almost weary as he moved to the couch and sat, which was strange in itself. He sees so much death, but I don't think he often deals with the aftermath in any context beyond "cleanup." Maybe that wasn't it at all, and he was simply dragging his feet about the serious talk we needed to have, or he was just frustrated to have missed another night at Fangtasia. Again, so nice to have the luxury of not knowing.

I curled up beside him, laying my head against his shoulder and my hand across his chest. He wrapped his arm around my back, cradling my head. His cool fingers on my scalp felt wonderful.

"How are your injuries?" he asked.

"Still sore, but improving."

"That's good."

"Do you feel the pain? Mine, I mean. With the blood?"

"I know that you are suffering, but I don't share the physical pain. Our bond is not that strong."

After a moment I asked, "Would you ever want it to be?"

When he didn't respond right away, I hurried on, "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"The idea is intriguing. It is something I have considered since the demon left you with the ritual knives. Forging that manner of bond is one of their uses," he explained. "I assume that is one of the reasons he gave those in particular to you, rather than me."

"What do you mean?"

"He does not wish you to have ties to any others. He means to take you for himself."

He sounded completely sincere, but I couldn't help chuckling. "Um, I don't think of Mintah in that way."

"That is not the manner of _taking_ I was referring to, lover, but he does wish you for his own. He is a collector, and you are rare, if not unique."

"I like to think I have value as more than an oddity," I frowned.

"You do. All the more reason for him to desire you so strongly. He breeches all protocol."

"What do you mean?"

"You are mine," he said simply, and then charged on before I could interrupt him. "The particulars of our arrangement are between us, but it exists to be recognized by other supernatural beings. He refuses to do so."

I didn't think Mintah was being deliberately antagonistic, but it was true that he followed his own etiquette, and willfully disregarded everyone else's.

"I'm sorry," I sighed again.

Eric shifted me gently in his arms so he could see my face. He brushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"Bill Compton suspects you are part-fairy," he informed me.

"I know," I nodded, and explained how. I could tell he wasn't particularly happy that I'd gone to see Bill, but he was interested in what I told him. You always hear that knowledge is power. It wouldn't have occurred to Eric to simply go and ask Bill for answers, not when doing so meant admitting he wasn't already aware.

"So he knows I have some fairy in me, but that's all he knows. I'm pretty sure he attributes any other weirdness he's picked up, to that."

"Perhaps an arrangement not unlike the one your sponsor made with me many months ago could suffice."

That wouldn't work, and as tactfully as I could, I explained why. Eric had always seen my telepathy as something to reserve for his own potential use. While he was loyal to the Queen, Eric's first priority was Eric. Bill couldn't afford to be that way. He was still dragging himself up the ranks, and offering him a bribe to stay quiet about my fairy connection would only serve to alert him that there was more to it than he yet knew.

There was also that persistent feeling in my gut which informed me that this might not be a problem, come the morning. Ghellert's brother had arrived at Bill's house with murder in his heart. He wanted vengeance and Bill Compton was the available target.

"We'll just... have to see what happens. I'm not going to worry about him anymore tonight."

I focused all my thoughts on warning Eric not to press for more, and he seemed to catch enough of that caution to know not to proceed.

"I am not sure whether to be thrilled or troubled that you can keep secrets from me," he finally said.

I knew the feeling.

"I'm sure you could make me talk if you were really determined," I said, with a hollow lightness in my voice.

I would fess up if he pushed, but otherwise, the least said the better.

"I meant what I said earlier. You would make a remarkable vampire."

I shook my head again, both in denial of his statement, and in relief that he was letting the other subject go. "It makes me very happy to hear that you would want me around forever. I know it's not an offer you make lightly, but that life is not for me, for so many reasons."

"Such as?"

"Most of the things I care about aren't things I'd be able to keep. I'm a simple person. I'd miss the sun; I'd miss the people I love. I fear I'd lose my only reprieve from this ability of mine. I'd miss just being alive. Feeling wonder and excitement and joy and... the whole range of human emotions that you vampires seem to deny yourselves."

"We are not without emotions."

"But you so rarely allow yourselves to experience them. You're always preoccupied with... I don't know. Survival, I'm guessing? In all its forms."

I hoped he understood what I was trying to say. He stroked my cheek and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was reassuring.

"I _do_ appreciate that you would offer that," I said again, and then a sudden wave of uncertainty rushed over me. "Is that a... deal breaker for you? That I don't want it?"

"No. Besides, you may change your mind." He managed to make it sound playful, whether he was serious or not. I found I was able to smile genuinely at him, though it broke when I yawned enormously. I mumbled an apology.

"It's late for you," he said, scooping me up before I could protest.

"I was hoping you'd stay until dawn," I said.

"I will stay," he agreed.

He set me down in my room and I undressed. It was still an awkward and painful business. I winced as I took off my sweater. The pain that radiated across my shoulder blades was enough that I decided not to bother with a nightshirt. I climbed in bed, but didn't pull the covers up. Instead I patted the mattress beside me until he got the hint. He kept his silk boxers on as he slid in beside me.

I wasn't so far gone to weariness that I could ignore the presence of my nearly naked vampire honey. I cuddled up to his cool body and started to rub my hand up and down his chest, dipping lower with each pass. He made a soft sound of pleasure but he didn't move to reciprocate. I glanced up at him, but he wasn't looking at me. I'd gotten used to the eye contact that seemed an essential component of sex for him, but he had his eyes closed, lying perfectly still.

It was at that point that I remembered how ugly I looked at the moment. My face was bruised, my hair was torn. Of course he wasn't feeling sexy. I turned away from him and bundled under the covers.

He turned too and I could feel him behind me, not really touching me. That didn't help my self-esteem either. I told myself it was temporary, trying not to feel hurt. He settled his hand on my upper arm.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"It's fine Eric. You're right, I should get to sleep."

"You should. Bobby will be here by noon. He is bringing something for you, but I did not get the sense just then that you were ready to rest."

"I wasn't but... I don't expect you to make love with a battered woman."

"You think I do not wish to have sex with you? Because of your injuries?"

"Don't you?"

He looped his arm around my waist then, running a hand up my belly and between my breasts as he moved his body closer, pressing his hips against me. I could feel that I'd been wrong about him not being horny at least. I reached my hand back to brush the edge of his thigh as he kissed my shoulder.

"These marks," he said, letting his lips trail upwards across my neck and down my collar, "show that you are strong. Do not mistake the fact that I do not want to injure you, for my not desiring you."

"Do you mean that?"

"Look at me," he said, and I turned to face him. He cupped my cheeks in his hands. "Yes, I mean it. I will take what you are willing to offer and still want more. My desire for you, your body, your blood, your warmth, does not falter, but the pace is yours to set. I..."

He didn't have the chance to finish what he was saying before I pulled him down to kiss me. I wasn't inexperienced enough to think that Eric was the perfect boyfriend. He was charming only as means to an end. He could be possessive to the point to the point of being insulting, and pragmatic to the point of being insensitive. He wasn't _sweet _by any means. He was just _right_.

He didn't waste time lying to both of us by saying that even bruised, I looked beautiful to him. He was careful without coddling, letting me be broken, but not useless. True to his word, he let me lead. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing passionately as I turned my lower body to a more favorable position, helping him out of his underwear in the process.

I nudged him back, climbing on top of him. The sensation of his cold chest and the soft graze of the hair there felt amazing on my breasts as I drew myself up to his mouth. I planted my hands at either side of his shoulders and dipped to do it again. I could already feel the sting in my arms, but in almost the same moment that registered, his hands clasped around my ribs, supporting my weight and guiding the motion.

This time when I pulled back to look at him he was watching me so intently that it made me shiver. I bent to kiss him again, keeping the smooth, wave-like motion going with rolls of my hips.

I kissed down his jaw and neck, letting my hands run across the sculpted muscles of his arms, then pulling back to trace up lightly with only my fingernails. He pressed his chest against mine as I did so with another low groan, so I think he liked the sensation as he held himself still. After another pass, I rocked back on my hips, so I was sitting over him, resting on his thighs. I smoothed my palm over his chest, dragging fingernails across his nipples, smiling as he responded with another low, rumbling sound, like the purring of a cat. His hips lurched up as I continued to let my splayed fingers slide down his abdomen.

He was very hard by then, his thickness pressed up against his belly. I inched my knees forward a bit before taking him in my hand. I couldn't really rub him this way; even uninjured me would have found the position awkward. Instead I held him gently where I wanted him and sat up a bit on my knees. I brought my fingers to my lower lips and risked a glanced at him. His eyes were locked on my hand. I might have felt embarrassed, but that lusty look emboldened me.

"Part them," he murmured, and I let my fingers spread my labia.

I rolled my hips again, gasping as the most intimate parts of me brushed against him. I moved again, rubbing myself against his length. I let out a sigh as hesitance shifted to a smooth and needful rhythm. I moved my hand to caress his tip, but that wasn't enough for him. He brushed me aside, urging me to touch my breasts. I looked down to see him stroking himself deftly, using the wetness I left behind, his knuckles occasionally brushing against me as I slid my sex against him. I cupped a hand over my breast, letting my fingertips swirl across the nipple, not pinching or teasing, just caressing. Only pleasure.

I felt the flush coming over me. I let my fingers close over my clitoris, circling wildly as feeling burst out and then instantly drew in again tightly, like the birth and collapse of an infinite universe.

I was panting when I came to my senses, and he was still watching me, his look no less penetrating.

"Kiss me," I demanded, and he did. I like to think the blood I tasted on his tongue was unintentional, as if he'd had to bite down on his cheek or tongue to keep his restraint. It wasn't more than a drop or two.

I didn't want him to go without, nor did I want to stop either. I shifted up and gently moved him to my entrance before sinking back down with a breathy moan. He was sitting up now, hands on my hips. I pulled mine around his shoulders.

"You have to help me," I breathed, as I started to move, and he complied, flexing his hips. The motion was punctuated with his grunting and the mumbling of foreign words that sounded like good things. I loved to hear his voice.

Eventually he brought his hands back down to the bed so he could push upward with more surety. He set a pace I couldn't match on my own, but which felt wonderful. I leaned back slightly, halting when I reached the angle that made me cried out involuntarily. I slid my fingers down again, twitching them over my slick nub. He was watching again.

"Faster," he grunted out. "Close."

I complied, and this time when the perfect moment came, I had him to hold on to. I felt his own shout of pleasure echo through my chest as I pressed it to his. We stayed as we were for a time, with me just breathing. The only change in his posture was that he pulled his arms around me again.

"I don't want to lose this." I whispered.

It was the exact wrong thing to say.

We were so close that the slightest bit he pulled away from me felt like a recoil.

"No," I said urgently, trying to pull him back. "Stay."

His arms settled around me once again, but the idyllic minute was over. I leaned back and kissed him and then eased myself back to lay down again. For the first time in a couple days the only lingering soreness I felt was the delightful kind between my legs. It should have been a blissful few moments before I drifted off to sleep contentedly, but instead of keeping the unpleasantness banished, I'd brought it right back to the foreground. He didn't lie down.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Why?"

"For ruining the moment." I ran my fingertips across his back, willing him to turn around.

"You should go."

My hand fell instantly. Had this turned into some kind of goodbye?

"Isn't that what I say at this time of night?" My voice was flat with the dreadful attempt at humor. There wasn't anything funny about this. He did finally turn to me, and the look on his face wasn't one I had seen before; more vacant than sad. Defeated?

"I want to keep you," he told me, his broad hand finding my hip, "but you were not wrong. There will always be things here that I cannot control."

"You're telling me to leave?"

"I am not so unselfish as to go that far. The most I can say is that you should."

I felt blood rushing to my face at the same moment my eyes began to sting. I was an inch away from bursting into tears, and forced myself to take several deep, stuttering breaths.

"Eric," I began, but my voice wasn't quite as sure as I wanted it. Another breath, and I tried again. "It's you. It's not Gran. She has Jason and now Hadley. It's this. As much as I want to see the world and do exciting work, I didn't think that I would get to have this ever in my life. It's not just because you're a vampire, or because I can't hear you. It's you. I... could love you. I don't want to lose that chance."

I'd been terrified to say it out loud, but as soon as I did I knew that I was right to do so. I had to say it, in the hopes that he would say it back. Even if he didn't, I had to know. I would be devastated, but at least then I could go and not look back. I never expected I would be able to have it all.

"I could love you," he finally said. The heavy stone in my stomach suddenly vanished, until I looked up into his eyes and it returned with doubled weight. "But it does not change the fact that you should go. Though I am loathe to admit it, the demon is nearly untouchable. You would be safer at his side."

"He has enemies too!" I argued.

"Who have been defeated for the time being. Mine, as you correctly pointed out, will continue to come. And yours, should you remain here, are far more likely to find you. Especially now that we cannot be certain how far these rumors have traveled."

I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip hard so hard that I could taste blood. He bent towards me, kissing it away. We didn't say any more. There just wasn't anything to say. He wrapped me in his arms, and true to his word, he stayed until dawn.

I woke the next day to Bobby Burnham's incessant knocking. I didn't even have to check; anyone else would have been polite enough to just leave. The mind out there with him had a familiar, smooth blankness. I hurried to pull on a pair of pants and a sweater, along with my slippers, regretting the fact that I hadn't showered.

Pulling open the door, I saw Octavia Fant wearing a vivid fuchsia pant suit and a turquoise shell. She looked irritated, though her expression softened somewhat when she saw me.

"Good morning," I said, mustering all the cheerfulness I could manage.

"Ms. Stackhouse," Bobby greeted. "This is Octavia Fant, acclaimed holistic healer. Mr. Northman has had her flown in from New Orleans for the day to offer you assistance in recovering from your accident."

A quick scan of his mind informed me that Bobby did indeed believe that I'd been in some kind of car accident. Eric must have glamoured him to forget bringing the clothes and blood here. I could see the logic in that. A side effect of removing that memory was the erasure of any compassion Bobby had felt for me, which was just as well. I preferred him predictable, if unlikeable.

"How have you been, Octavia?" I asked, greeting my guest and informing Bobby in one stroke that me and the 'acclaimed healer' were on first name terms.

"Just fine, child. Can't say the same for you. You look like you've been chewed up and spit out."

I gave a wry smile and opened the door a little wider, inviting her in. I could guess why she was here, and I couldn't be mad about it. I didn't think I'd be availing myself of her services, but it could be nice to just visit for a while. Bobby couldn't leave fast enough. He would return later in the afternoon to collect Octavia and take her back to the airport. This really was just a day trip.

"He's a piece of work," she commented, after Bobby had left to attend to the rest of Eric's errands.

"Oh, he's a real jerk," I agreed. "But, he's very devoted to his boss."

"You'd think he'd be a little nicer to his boss's woman then," she huffed. I smiled at that.

"I don't think he'd be nice to Oprah Winfrey if she was giving him a car," I quipped.

She tutted at that, and we shared another smile. Minding my manners, I offered Octavia something to eat and drink, which she accepted. She followed me into the kitchen while I put on the coffee, boiled water for tea, and then excused myself to wash up a little before returning to make a start on some soup and sandwiches for lunch.

"So," she commented as I worked. "I'm told you had a run in with the vampires after all."

"I did," I agreed. "And I'm betting Eric dragged you up here to fix me up since I refused his healing?"

"Just your hair."

"What?"

"I was told you didn't want any magical healing, but your hair will take months to grow in, and you'll still have to cut it."

"Just...my hair?" I could hear my voice quavering.

"I've brought some herbs that will speed the healing anyway," she went on. "Now that I see you, I'll brew you a cup of tea after we eat. It's not magic, it's medicine."

"He flew you up here just to fix my hair?"

It was the superficial problem that somehow made me feel the worst, but he found a way to solve it. No, it wasn't flowers and candy. It was much more than that. This was what I was supposed to walk away from for my own good? I hurried to turn away before the tears that threatened could fall. My emotions were still so close to the surface.

I collected myself and served her tea, asking what she had planned for the spell. Constant chatter was a distraction I needed just then.

Later, as we ate, I asked after Louis and her shop. We skirted very briefly over the topic of Waldo, with her assuring me that they'd had no further troubles 'after hours.' She told me about a promising new witch in her coven who showed great talent, but was overly enthusiastic about exposure to supes.

"I ought to take your photograph and bring it back as a cautionary tale," she remarked.

That put something of a damper on the amiable chit-chat. I'd thought I was looking better today.

"Some people have to learn the hard way," I said.

"Have you?" she asked pointedly.

Yes. No. I don't know.

"I'm going to be leaving," I told her, and again veered right into another subject. "Actually, it's kind of fortunate that I managed to see you now. I want to make arrangements to have the wards you did in Bon Temps renewed either annually, or semi-annually. Whatever you think will be necessary to maintain their efficacy."

The wards led to the topic of some research her coven had been doing on deterrents. They're a bit like stay-away spells, only they don't contain the element that actually physically repels. Instead, the strength of the spell is focused on the mental aversion. This makes them much more subtle, and far less detectable to anyone who doesn't specifically know to look for them.

I was happy to listen to her. Octavia's own mental shield had fallen away pretty quickly once she grew comfortable in my home. I could tell that she was extremely gratified to have an informed audience that nonetheless would not interrupt her as she spoke about magic. Evidently discussions of this sort among her own coven turned into her having to listen to many other people's opinions; something she did not particularly care for.

I certainly understood her desire to speak freely about her work. I tried to feel uplifted about the fact that I'd soon be entering a world where I could do just that, every day.

At some point in time we switched places, as I finished cleanup, and she took over the use of the kitchen. The tea she prepared was very bitter, with a strange smell that was simultaneously earthy, savory, and sharp like someone was cooking a roast chicken dinner in the middle of a pine forest. She had me hold my face over the steaming pot as it steeped, so I had quite a lot of time to contemplate the aroma. As I sipped, she began to lay out the less mundane herbs and sundry. There was a fresh egg, some clumpy white liquid that had separated like old ink, various plants and oils.

"I'll need your hairbrush," she informed me, without looking up from her mixing.

I grabbed it out of my bathroom, and was about to return to her before a second thought occurred to me. I took the silver hairbrush that Niall had given me for Christmas and brought it to Octavia.

"Will this work? I also have a regular one, but..."

She took it out of my hand before I finished speaking, inspected it, and then gave me a sharp look.

"No good?" I asked.

"It will do," she answered in a clipped voice. It was, after all, a seriously magical object.

The paste she spread across my scalp began to tingle immediately, like the top of my head was submerged in seltzer water. She was in the middle of doing her spell before I realized that she had begun. Her chanting was low and sonorous, and though I couldn't see her well, since she was standing over me, I knew she was sweeping her arms down and around my head in exaggerated brushing gestures, as though willing the hair to grow out.

Soon, she began to brush the surrounding hair, and I could see a faint bronze halo out of the corners of my eyes and reflected in the chrome surfaces around the kitchen. I began to feel incredibly tired, letting my eyes fall shut as she continued to sing.

"There now," she said with satisfaction, and my eyes flickered open.

"Is it done?" I asked, reaching up hesitantly.

"It's done. This worked well," she confirmed, handing me the silver brush.

"I think I fell asleep," I said.

"You may be tired," she agreed. "This isn't glamor magic. It's your real hair grown. I thought that would be best."

"It's wonderful," I said. My scalp was still a bit tender if I pressed on it, but other than that, it felt perfectly fine. That funky paste she'd put on it was notably absent as I ran my fingers through. I got up and went to the hall mirror. I was shocked. If anything, it looked even better than it had before.

"It's not the same as the flashy spells the girls use because they're too lazy to buy cosmetics. This won't wear off or need to be maintained." She sounded smug. I couldn't fault her.

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I'm glad I could help. I don't have much occasion to use the spell."

"You could put Rogaine out of business," I said, still marveling at the golden sway of my hair.

"I don't hold with vanity," she said sharply. "Not in magics, anyway," she said, brushing a miniscule dust mote from her bright lapel.

I helped myself to another cup of coffee as we returned to the kitchen and Octavia packed away her supplies into her magic bag. I'd no idea growing hair could be so wearying. We both agreed that it was best if Bobby didn't see what amounted to a pretty drastic change in my appearance in such a short time, so when he pulled up, she was quick to jog out and meet him. We'd be in contact about the wards, and I wished her a safe flight before she left.

Mintah's arrival in the early evening seemed almost irrelevant by that point. I agreed to come to Scotland. He was neither pleased, nor displeased. I asked that arrangements be made for a visit as soon as possible, so that I could meet with his clerk to discuss the particulars; all the necessary human concerns that were far below his interest, like my exact salary and vacation allotment. I'd actually need the days now. I'd also need to find a place to live, and a dozen other things that I expected would require help.

It wasn't going to be a short process, which almost made it worse. I'd just signed on to at least three months of long and drawn out goodbyes. Maybe I should put off telling Gran for a little while. Would she ever want to visit me? I'd buy her ticket.

Once he'd gotten what he came for, Mintah didn't stay very long at all.

"We'll see you at Splendide tomorrow, Sookie. There is a staff meeting scheduled for ten."

I nodded, "I'll be there," as I walked him to the door.

"Stay at home this evening, and continue your recuperation. I see the day has done you significant improvement. I would not wish to see that undone."

Before I could say anything more, he was gone, not exactly vanished, but shifting away at great speed as a shadowy blur. I saw the birds take off after him. How had they known to shift? I hoped he knew we'd need to use a car when I traveled with him.

Not that I had any other plans, but I took Mintah's direct order to heart. I had a wild night of doing laundry, changing my sex sheets, and playing with makeup to see how successfully I could conceal the rest of the bruising on my face. Not very well. I drank the rest of the chicken-lumberyard tea Octavia had left. It was actually better cold.

Eric did not stop by. I didn't expect him to. He'd missed a lot of work over the weekend, and of course, he had an invasion of Arkansas to help orchestrate. We hadn't broken up. I didn't really know what we were, except sad that circumstances couldn't be different. As far as what we'd do from here? Just try to enjoy each other while we could, I guess.

It was Brenda who led the meeting the following day, and the first announcement was my promotion. That was probably on purpose – no backing out now. To my surprise, Wilson Bellows made a casual inquiry about applying for my soon to be vacant position. I always thought he enjoyed the traveling he did.

I assumed Ghellert would be mentioned, but he wasn't. Instead, Brenda plodded on for another twenty minutes discussing ways for the brokers to increase commissions, such as urging people to sell more and expensive things, and buy same.

"I think the key is really in how you deliver the information," I commented.

Everyone turned to look at me, not just because I had interrupted Brenda, but because I had spoken at all. As a behind the scenes person, this stuff doesn't usually apply to me. When I have to sit through it, I do so silently. In fact, the only reasons I was here at all was because Mintah told me to be, and because Brenda hadn't excused me to my own work before going into her motivating manager routine.

"Um, what I mean is, people are buying prestige. The more knowledge you have, the better you can make something sound. The more you have to say about a specific object, or the general history surrounding it, the more important it will seem, and the more value attributed to it."

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Wilson chimed in, "That's a good point. Brenda, are we still doing tuition reimbursements for history courses at LSU or Centenary College?"

"Yes, that's on-going, though no one has submitted anything since last summer. Holly, why don't you call after this and see if we can't get some course catalogs over here. There should still be time if anyone wants to pick anything up for the Spring. Good idea, Sookie," she finished, with a nod at me.

When the meeting finally broke up, Brenda motioned for me to stay back.

"So, Edinburgh, huh?"

"It looks that way."

"Well, congratulations. Good luck keeping your tan over there," she smirked. My tan was pretty nonexistent at that point, considering it was still the middle of winter.

"I'm sure they've got salons," I shrugged.

"Is that where you were yesterday? Your hair looks great, by the way."

I peeked into her brain to determine if this was sarcasm. Another small perk to being a telepath; I can check to see if someone is being serious. She was.

"No, I was home resting. Do you not know what happened Friday?" I asked carefully. Surely her family would have been called to duty, if Colonel Flood had gotten involved.

"I heard something about the Arkansas vamps coming here," she said quietly. "But nothing came of it."

"Yeah, they cleared out pretty quickly. Most of the action happened inside of Arkansas."

"Good," she agreed.

"Yeah," I answered vaguely.

"Listen, do you know what Management is planning for the Shreveport office?" she asked me.

"He hasn't spoken to you?"

"He told me about Ghellert, and about you. The thing is, Don and some of the guys got wind of it, and a lot of people are getting nervous that the branch will close. They see a lot of staff leaving and not getting replaced right away, you know?"

"I haven't heard of any formal plans to close, so you can pass that along if my word is good for anything. As far as I know, the most that's being considered is going human-only, which is business as usual to Don and whoever else."

"Do you know what time Management is coming today?"

"I only know that he said he'd be here. Just ask him what's in the works. His staff deserves a concrete answer. He's not going to bite your head off."

"You sure about that?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm pretty sure he's met his quote for the week," I said darkly. "Anyway, sorry for interrupting you earlier."

"No, it's fine. Like I said, people are starting to get a little nervous, so talking about long-term things like reimbursement for courses they haven't taken yet is a good thing. Eases minds. Listen, I have some things on my plate this morning, so I'll pop down at lunchtime?"

"Sounds fine," I agreed.

Unfortunately lunch did not work out. When she was ready to go, I was still waiting for a sample of one of the Ireland pieces to come out of the cooker. When I was ready, Mintah had just arrived and they were closed up in her office.

I had lunch in the break room with Don Callaway, who did ask me himself if I knew anything about the branch closing, and didn't believe me when I told him no, despite letting the subject drop.

Pam was talking with Thalia outside when I left work in the evening. Her eyes scoured me immediately, searching for signs of my injuries, I assumed.

"Hey Pam. I guess it's safe for us to be on the same street again?"

"At the moment," she answered coolly. "You look better than I expected. How are you doing?"

"I could probably use some more aspirin, but glad to be back at work."

Obviously she was through with the palaver, Pam continued, "We need to talk."

"Sure," I agreed. "Want to follow me to my house?"

"No, I'll drive," she said.

She was already moving at a brisk pace towards the parking lot. I nodded goodbye to Thalia and hurried to catch up. I buckled in to Pam's rental car and she wasted no time in getting it started.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, as she turned the car on to the road.

"Eric's."

* * *

A/N:I imagine some of you are ticked off with me at the moment. Feel free to vent, ye of little faith. ;)

Just a heads up... If this were a book, you would be noticing about now that the number of pages left to read is dwindling.


	37. Light as a Vampire

A/N: Thank you to FiniteAnarchy, the beta for this story, who continues to be amazingly encouraging. Thank you to Charlaine Harris for writing the Sookie Stackhouse novels.

I know it's been a very long time since you have heard from me. I apologize for that. In part, it was due to illness (bronchial pneumonia – super fun), but mostly it was due to writer's block. It's as if I realized I was nearly done with this story, and all my creativity just dried up... and I was pretty embarrassed about staying in touch with people, knowing I had nothing story-related to report. Anyway, I'm back to finish as promised, so here's not one, but two chapters for you. Thanks for sticking around to read them.

* * *

In the last chapter:

Eric met Sookie at home. Despite her injuries, they shared some tender love-making. The two spoke openly of their strong feelings for each other, but also faced the reality of their limited options. Sookie doesn't want to be a vampire, and Eric acknowledged that he can't protect her as well as Mintah, who functions outside of the politics of any faction.

Octavia Fant was commissioned by Eric to repair the bald spots in Sookie's hair. Sookie is deeply touched by the gesture, which solves a superficial-but-obvious problem while still respecting her wishes to let her injuries heal on their own.

Sookie formally accepted the position in Scotland, but mixed feelings prevented her from reveling in the start of a new chapter in her life. Though her coworkers at Splendide are happy for her, many are concerned for the security of their own jobs as the future of the Shreveport branch has not been confirmed. Pam arrives to collect Sookie after work, taking her to see Eric.

* * *

Chapter 37 – Light as a Vampire

I wasn't terribly surprised when Pam turned in to one of Shreveport's nicest neighborhoods. I expected Eric's house to be something grand. We stopped beside the little gatehouse, forcing the guard to leave the warmth of his brightly lit office. He recognized Pam as she lowered her window, and they exchanged a few words about the unfamiliar rental car following her "fender bender" over the weekend. When the guard leaned down to get a better look at me in the passenger's seat, I smiled and offered a friendly wave which he didn't return.

A few moments later, he retreated inside and raised the yellow pole which served as a barrier between suburban opulence and the rest of the riffraff. It was a comically flimsy security measure, considering the caliber of Eric's actual enemies.

We rolled through the high hedgerow and the fence which encircled the entire community, like this was some sort of walled medieval town or something. That just might be the appeal, from Eric's point of view. If nothing else, the setup was probably intimidating enough to keep any fans from the club at bay.

His house was large and beautiful, built on top of a sloping lawn. The front facade was done in fieldstone, only adding to the faux medieval motif, but I had little doubt that the inside would be fully modern. It was impressive, surely, but all in all I was pretty disappointed by my first visit to Eric's home.

Mostly because he wasn't even there.

This became clear as soon as Pam activated the garage door opener, revealing the completely vacant space. Eric's corvette was nowhere to be seen. Pam was already out of the car and grabbing something from the trunk when I turned to question her, leaving me little choice but to follow her inside.

Given what happened the last time Pam and I were in the car together, I hadn't been keen to distract her while she was driving. I'd left her to focus on the road and our surroundings, knowing that questions like, "What's going on?" and "Why does this involve me?" would be answered eventually. I was done waiting.

Pam stepped gracefully out of her high-heeled shoes, leaving them next to a pair of Eric's enormous boots. It was easy to forget how tiny she really is, but even barefoot, she looked no less intimidating. Some women just have that kind of presence. Following her lead, I quickly toed out of my sneakers and nudged them into place beside the others.

A short hallway led from the garage to the predictably immaculate kitchen where Pam was already standing in front of the fridge storing blood in the stainless steel refrigerator. There were a couple of frozen dinners on the counter. Exactly how long was I going to be here?

"Help yourself," she offered, turning to the microwave to heat her own dinner.

I spared another glance at the available menu options and decided I wasn't that hungry. Is this how they felt when I offered them TruBlood?

I folded my arms and waited with growing impatience as the timer ticked down. It wasn't until she'd gulped down half her bottle that I finally got Pam's attention.

"Well?"

"We have a guest," she informed me. "And more on the way."

"What _now_?" I slapped the counter to punctuate my frustration. It was an unthinking gesture, and pain shot up through my palm and down from my shoulder creating a weird tingling itch in the region of my funny bone, but I wasn't laughing.

Pam followed the path of my hand before lifting her eyes to meet mine. She seemed unperturbed by my outburst. "Andre is here. Do you know the name?"

I shook my head. Maybe I'd heard it before, but it wasn't ringing any immediate bells.

"He is the Queen's Lieutenant," she informed me. "Though in this instance he is acting as the Queen's General."

"You're getting ready to move on Arkansas," I deduced.

"Soon," she agreed.

With a sigh I asked, "And I'm expected to help with that?"

There was a flicker of something very like approval on her usually impassive face before she turned back to her bottle. She dabbed at her blood-stained lips before answering.

"You're not here to help. You're here to hide."

"Hide _here_? Why? Is someone at my house?"

"I wouldn't know," Pam answered. "But plenty enough people seem to know where you live. Your demon enemies, the vampires of Arkansas..."

"But they're dead," I cut in.

"Bill Compton," she finished.

I breathe out suddenly as I realized what she was implying.

"Eric thinks Bill already told the Queen about me. That her man is here to check me out."

It was something Eric and I had left unsaid... the implications of Bill Compton knowing my connection to the fairies. Of course he'd already told the Queen. He'd probably told her before he even got back to Bon Temps, maybe even before we were taken at all. I was fooling myself with that visit, trying to feel him out, or to reason with him. It had already been too late.

"Andre is here to plan our strategy," Pam told me. "But just in case he has other business in our fair city, well, Eric wants to know that if anyone comes calling, you won't be found at home."

With that, Pam turned to the sink to rinse her bottle and promptly left the room. I had to be grateful that Eric was looking out for me, though I knew he was looking out for himself just as much. I'd always believed that when push came to shove, he would sell me out. It hurt to believe that now. Maybe we weren't quite there yet. I was afraid to dwell on what would happen when we were.

I pushed the thoughts aside. Unless bringing me here was some kind of elaborate trap, we were still in this together. My eyes fell on what I presumed was the pantry. I crossed to it quickly, flicking on the light switch next to knob and throwing open the door. It was almost empty. There was a file box on one low shelf, and a couple of mismatched bottles of wine on another. One still had a bit of ribbon tied to the neck. Maybe they'd been housewarming gifts from clueless neighbors. Conspicuously absent were the lurking enemies waiting to carry me off to become the Queen's juice box. I shut the door again, and went in search of Pam.

The great room was true to its name, but I didn't allow myself to be distracted by the décor. Beyond that, and the foyer, was Eric's study, where Pam was busy pulling papers from a file drawer. It was one of those wooden ones, meant to resemble an antique bureau of unspecified providence; the classier style of executive office furniture. I was amused to note the book shelf, where three or four of the ubiquitous yellow Idiot's Guides to technology were slotted amongst tomes that were decades, perhaps even centuries older. I started to step forward, curious to see what books Eric would value enough to carry with him through his many years, when Pam rose again, sliding the drawer shut with a muted thud.

"What's all that?" I asked as she gathered her findings into a neat stack.

She must have heard me enter, and she answered without looking up, "Matters to be attended."

"Regarding Arkansas?" I asked.

"Regarding us," came her clipped response, and then she was moving again, back toward the kitchen. She stopped long enough to store the human food in the freezer and then gazed around the space as if searching for anything out of place, before moving back toward the garage and stepping back into her shoes.

"You're leaving?" I asked, feeling dumb as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

"There's a meeting at Fangtasia. Eric will be home late."

"And I'm just supposed to stay here? Alone?"

"Do you need me to show you how to work the television?"

"No."

"Very well then. Keep out of trouble. Perhaps I'll see you later."

Quick as that, she was gone, leaving me alone in the big house to try to piece together the last hour or so.

Pam had a press of urgency about her. She wasn't fretful, but focused. Considering what she'd be facing, 'soon' as she said, it made sense. It would be a fight, one that they seemed likely to win, but there were no guarantees. It's different when the violence is premeditated. You've got the time to think about what could go wrong. The files she'd taken must pertain to their personal affairs, I realized. Just in case.

I could check, if I really wanted to. I hadn't noticed a lock on the cabinet drawer, and I had the run of Eric's house, for the moment. No. I wouldn't invade his privacy. It was weird enough to find myself alone in his home. He'd trusted me with his body when he'd been dead for the day, true, but this was akin to being in his _inner sanctum_. I caught myself grinning and went to explore a bit.

Eric did have a nice new television, and a fancy stereo in a glass-paned case. It was so spotless that I didn't dare disturb it with my fingerprints to see what sort of music was in there. He had modern couches and large, plush chairs. Everything was deep-set and sturdy, suited to a man of Eric's size. I perched on one of the armchairs nearest the hearth, and finding it so comfortable, I sunk further back in to the deep blue upholstery, pulling my feet underneath me and feeling pleasantly dwarfed. A small table was situated beside it, with a bulky manuscript and a pen placed on top. Curious, I flipped through the pages, and noticed that almost every sheet had extensive notes and markings, scribblings in the margins in Eric's cramped hand. Skimming a few lines, I found it was another history book about the Vikings. He must be a contributing editor in this volume. Did he enjoy remembering his human life, or was it just lucrative? It's not like there was a better authority, living or undead.

The former was some part of it. I noticed the pictures on the walls. Some were old oil paint, and some were newer. There was even a photograph, but they all depicted northern landscapes, rocky coastlines, and the sea. The North Sea, probably. One showed a sea serpent ravaging a ship. Did they really exist, once? Dragons are real, or so Niall has said, though if any still lived in the ever-receding boundaries of the Fae world, I couldn't say. Maybe these monsters had been their cousins – great fae creatures that survived in this world while men's axes and spearheads were only made of stone and bronze. Or perhaps they had never been. Just strange old bones, spun into myth by men who had died thousands of years before Eric was born the first time.

Human scientists have a much better time of it. It was so much easier to draw conclusions when you can dismiss the supernatural out of hand.

There were other trinkets and treasures interspersed with the contemporary furnishings, though not many. They were things he must have carried with him; small mementos, most of them European. I couldn't imagine he had ever ventured far into other parts of the world, even for all his long years. I suppose he could have skulked along one of the major trade routes in the East, preying on merchants carrying silks, spices, or precious stones. I had a hard time seeing how he'd managed to blend in at all though, let alone in places where his height and fair features would make him stick out like a devastatingly handsome thumb. Did he ever want to travel, freely? To see something new and different, after all the centuries? Maybe he would, in another decade, once things settled down from the Revelation. It was funny to picture him and Pam on a Grand Tour. She'd wear a bikini on the ship deck by starlight.

The upstairs rooms were very tidy. They were sparsely, if tastefully, decorated. The windows were all fitted with drapes and shutters to make them light-tight. There were Plexiglass capsules stored under the beds to accommodate any vampire guests. I'd never seen anything like them. They must have been mail order. My footprints were the only ones to disturb the faint lines in the plush carpet left by the vacuum cleaner. It was reassuring to know this part of the house saw little use. Not a lot of guests, either human or vampire.

To my irritation, I couldn't work the television after all. There was one remote on the table, but that one only switched on the flat screen. There must be one for the satellite box as well, but I couldn't find it, and wasn't about to go poking and prodding any more than I already had done to look for it. Since it was out, I went back to the comfortable chair and took up the manuscript and began to read in earnest, paying particular attention to the parts that Eric had written by hand. In places he'd gone on at length on the backs of the opposite pages. I'd seen enough of his writing to be able to read it with ease. He wrote small, which the people who study handwriting suggest indicates shyness or insecurity. More likely it was just a carryover from having lived through the long eras when paper itself was a rare commodity. That was something I could appreciate about Eric; he wasn't wasteful.

I woke very pleasantly to the sensation of his thumb brushing over my neck, and turned my head to see that the manuscript was once again on its table with the pen laid diagonally across the plastic cover. The Viking I'd been dreaming about in the summer green barley fields was now bending toward me, leaning across the arm of his comfy chair.

"Hey," I yawned. "What's going on?"

"Andre has gone back to his lodging for the day. We'll be in Arkansas by midnight tomorrow."

"What time is it?" I asked, leaning forward and stretching my legs as he slid into the chair beside me. A spike of self-consciousness shot through my drowsiness as I feared there wouldn't be room enough for him, but he pulled me back against him quite cozily.

"It's very late."

"When's sunrise?" I asked.

"Not long," he replied automatically as he looked around at the mantle clock.

"Pam?"

"She is finishing the travel arrangements. Many will be rising in Shreveport tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I repeated. It hadn't registered the first time.

"We'll leave at full dark."

"So fast."

"It's for the best."

I stiffened suddenly. "Will they come here?" I wanted to know, thinking of the pods upstairs.

"We're using the Trifecta. The changes to staff and to security will cover the activity, should there be any spies we have not yet rooted out."

"What happens when it's done?" I could hear about the before and wonder about the after, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't want to think about the details of what would happen _during_ the takeover. I would save that for tomorrow night, when he couldn't see my worry and my fear.

"It will depend on what happens outside of the capital. If many of the vampires choose to surrender, Sophie-Anne may need to install a Regent to take a more _hands on_ role there, at least until new loyalties are assured. Otherwise, she may just name new Sheriffs, who will be responsible for repopulating."

"Make new vampires?" I blurted out, unable to hide how horrified I was by the idea.

"Some," he responded coolly. "Also bringing in strong allies from other states, other territories. It is the duty of a Sheriff to ensure his _or her_," he tacked on, paragon of equality that he was, "area is adequately populated, both for defense, and prosperity. If new vampires cannot be found, they must be made, although that process is slow. It is not good to have too many young vampires in one place at one time."

"Are there any in Shreveport?"

"There are some in the area. My numbers are good," he replied with satisfaction. "A good balance."

I smiled at the proud people manager, turning my body so I could wrap my arm around him. I didn't find what we were discussing romantic in any way, but it did inspire me to cling to him, silly as that sounds. Eric seemed to enjoy the cuddling as much as I was. After several contented minutes had passed, I felt the sleep creeping back over me.

"Do you have anything you need to do before dawn?"

"Yes," he sighed, and a moment later began to extricate himself from the chair, if regretfully.

"Any chance we have time to talk about why I'm here?"

"Bobby will come in the morning to take you back to your car. You will be fine inside your work during the day, but it would be best if you were in your home again before dusk. Until they have left the city, you should not be accessible after dark."

"What was said?" I asked, just as seriously as he had answered. His tone lacked the ring of mere overprotectiveness. Color me unnerved.

"A passing remark about the wish to meet you, to thank you personally, for the services you have done the Queen. What's to come concerns me more."

"Meaning?"

"Bill Compton did not turn up for the meeting at Fangtasia tonight. Should he fail to show tomorrow, they will question why, and they will investigate the matter when we return."

Were we still playing coy about this subject?

"Maybe he's a deserter," I suggested casually, but he cut me off.

"Maybe your demon killed him, and the scent of you both still lingers in the house."

Apparently not.

It was me who broke his gaze first. I felt my face heat up in shame as I turned away.

"Do you know that for a fact?" I asked softly, speaking to the coffee table. "Because I don't."

"He should have burned the house. _I_ should have burned the house last night, but I was not certain."

"I wasn't either."

"Look at me," he demanded.

"I wasn't certain either," I repeated, managing to meet his eyes again. He'd moved a few paces across the room.

"You suspected," he accused.

"And I let you know that," I answered, hearing the frantic plea in my own voice. "I left when they arrived. Whatever happened after that... I don't know what happened after that."

He moved away then, pacing the length of the large living room with only a few of his long strides. He paused at one of the paned windows, twitching the curtains aside and gazing out for a long moment. When he finally turned around again, some of temper was gone from his face and I felt myself relax infinitesimally.

"It's a worry for tomorrow," he concluded, "and for the nights to come. Perhaps you might remind Mintah that it is discourteous to leave messes in another person's home."

I swallowed hard, and the tiny sound caught his attention.

"Yes, alright. Tomorrow then," I nodded, though Lord knew how I'd bring up the subject tactfully. At least it would give me something to think about that wasn't Eric and Pam about to risk their necks.

I never used to be accustomed to being awake so late. It was another byproduct of a very limited social life and a healthy awareness of the fact that the safest place to be in the night's wee hours is tucked up in your bed. There comes a point, if you stay up long enough, where _tomorrow_ makes the decided shift into _today._

The clanging of church bells echoed in the high ceilinged room. Instinctively, I glanced at the mantle clock, but the skewed position of the minute hand confused me. It was well after five, so why would the chime...

The curt knock resonated from the direction of the front entry a second later, and my eyes shot to Eric, who had a deer-in-headlights look that did absolutely freaking nothing to allay my sudden alarm.

I cast my mind out, discovering a single hole where a mind should be, and it wasn't shaped like Pam. I didn't bother telling him because he seemed to already know. It was too late to hide. The vampire at the door could probably hear my heart racing from out there.

I remembered that I had to breathe.

Eric put up a hand gesturing me to wait, but I still pulled myself up out of the chair, ready to flee if it came to that. The way to the staircase was clear, but that was the downfall of heroines in a number of horror films. I'd seen French doors off the kitchen. I'd head for them. The garage door would take too long to open, and getting crushed by the garage door was another B-movie cliché.

I took a couple of paces sideways to give me a clearer path to the kitchen when suddenly a vampire was right beside me. I gasped, stepping back. Eric was a few feet behind, looking wary.

"Interesting preparations you are making here, Eric," the teenager drawled. "She smells lovely. Have you left enough to share?"

"Andre, this is Sookie Stackhouse," he offered, by way of introduction. "As you can see, she is still recovering from the injuries she sustained in Arkansas."

Pam had said I looked better than she expected, but I still had some visible bruising. I hoped it would make me look sufficiently inedible. No one picks the bruised peach.

"Miss Stackhouse, what a... coincidence."

"Pleased to meet you," I replied as he scoured me with an appraising eye. I dipped my head with a formal nod, and saw the gesture mimicked minutely by Eric over Andre's shoulder.

"I have heard so much about you."

While his words were courteous and familiar, his tone was anything but friendly. I could practically feel menace radiating from him; that presence shared by ancient creatures like Mintah, Thalia, and Eric himself. It filled up the room and made my brain buzz like a blue bottle fly. It was a great effort to stand still beside him when every instinct I had was telling me to run far, far away. I had to remind myself I'd never make it out of the room if he really meant to harm me.

"All good I hope," I forced a weak smile.

It was Eric who broke the awkward silence that followed. "Sookie, go upstairs so that Andre and I can talk."

It looked like the busty blonde would be trapped in the house with the monsters after all. I figured he was trying to get me away from this guy, so I forgave the curt order and shot him an appreciative look as I started to move. A hand shot out to seize my arm. I gasped again, in pain this time, and halted.

"Stay. I presume you're aware of the nature of my visit."

What was the correct answer? I knew why he was in Shreveport, but was it a trap to get Eric or Pam in trouble for telling me? If he meant his visit to Eric's house, I had no idea, though I had a sinking feeling...

"I've told her that we are to avenge her abduction," Eric answered for me, so I nodded in agreement.

"Avenge the kidnapping...yes." Andre seemed to chew on that for a beat before guiding me toward the sofa and telling me to sit – not as if this were his home and he was making the polite offer – but rather as if I were a well-trained dog, who couldn't help but obey the voice of command. He sat down next to me, too close for comfort really, and left Eric to take the chair.

"I've had no word from Pam," Eric began. "Is everything alright at the casino?"

"I'm certain your lieutenant has matters in hand. I did not wish to trouble her, and I had other business before the dawn."

"What business is that?" Eric asked.

"Unlike you, I was more troubled by the vampires in the area that failed to respond to tonight's summons."

"Andre... my people have jobs and businesses. They will all be present tomorrow. There was no need to force an additional night's hardship on them."

"So you said earlier. Have you succeeded in contacting them all?"

"I was in the process of doing so when you arrived."

"I can see that you were hard at work," Andre said, moving, if possible, even closer to me.

Eric looked tense, and I wasn't sure if that was the result of him getting a dressing down, or Andre's encroachment on my personal space. Either way, it was clear to me that he wasn't going to intervene.

"Where's Bill, Eric?"

"At this hour, I would expect him to be at home."

"He isn't."

There was a pregnant pause. I'd known this was coming, not because of telepathy, but because of common sense. I kept my cool, mostly.

"Do you have any idea where he is, Miss Stackhouse?" Andre asked at last.

"I haven't the foggiest," I answered. "I haven't seen him since the other night."

"Which other night?" Andre pressed.

"Two nights ago." The best lies contain a portion of truth. "I went to visit him at home. I wanted to see if he had recovered okay, and to thank him for his part in saving me. I don't think I would have made it out of there without his help."

"You went alone to do this?"

"Yes sir."

I kept my head bowed, but I could feel him scrutinizing me. He would try to glamour me if I dared meet his eyes, I just knew it. Even if he'd already heard from Bill that it wouldn't work, he would still try. I was on such thin ice. If I could just keep inching along, ever so carefully...

"The Queen will arrive in Shreveport tomorrow."

"I thought she intended to remain in New Orleans until our work was done," Eric said levelly.

"She has changed her mind. She wishes to be closer once the fighting... once _our work_ begins."

Eric nodded in acceptance.

"You should expect a call from one of her daytime representatives, Miss Stackhouse."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Indeed. She wishes to make your acquaintance, to apologize for your ordeal, and to thank you for your recent assistance to her people."

_No way in hell._

"That's very kind of her."

"She is very kind," Andre answered. "Eric, I will rest here tonight. Do you have accommodation for me?"

"Of course," Eric answered graciously.

"Very good. See Miss Stackhouse off before we retire. I'm sure she wishes to go home. Unless I'm mistaken, she has not been there since yesterday."

_Double shit._

Eric pulled out his cell phone and we could hear his brief conversation with whom I presumed to be Bobby Burnham. When Eric offered to show Andre upstairs, he refused.

"It would be rude if I did not wait for Miss Stackhouse to depart."

Since I didn't think this guy gave a fig about my perception of his manners, I concluded that Eric and I were not going to be permitted a private word before I was shuffled out the door. I sat in sullen silence as Eric and Andre shared a much more veiled exchange of one word questions and responses... details regarding the following night's endeavors that I wasn't privy to.

Whatever work Eric had intended to do before dawn was not getting done. He stood near the window with a view of the street in the front of the house.

"Sookie," he finally called, and my eyes shot to his. "_It's time for you to leave_."

His eyes were boring into mine, and I felt that familiar prickling. I got up quickly and moved to meet him by the door. He pulled my coat, purse, and shoes from the little closet there. I'd left them in the kitchen, and he must have put them away before waking me up. Pity he couldn't be as neat and tidy in _other people's_ homes. I stepped into my shoes without bothering to lace them up. There was a manilla envelope on the little table there which he pressed into my hands.

"Please give this to Bobby," he said indifferently.

"Sure... Uh, good luck tonight," I blinked up at him.

"Thank you. All will be well."

I glanced behind Eric and saw that Andre had moved to follow us as well.

"It was nice to meet you... Mr. ... Andre. Good night."

"A pleasure," Andre hissed, a cold little smile playing across his startlingly young face. He's like that kid from "The Good Son." I shivered.

Eric's hands rested on my upper arms and stroked up and down for a moment, as if his room temperature body would warm me, and then bent to kiss my cheek. It was barely more than a breath, and I'm still not sure I didn't hear it in my head.

"_Leave."_

Then, I was out the door, and walking down the slate path leading to the driveway where Bobby waited, unhappy to see me. He smelled strongly of mouthwash and too much of his cologne. It was much earlier than he was supposed to arrive. He hadn't taken time to shower or brush his teeth properly before racing over to do Eric's bidding.

"Here," I said, handing over the envelope as I slipped inside and buckled the seat belt. Eric was still waiting at the door, Andre just behind him.

"Does he want me inside?" Bobby asked hopefully.

"You don't want to go in there," I told him.

"Why? Who's that guy?"

"Bad news. Seriously Bobby. Let's go."

By the time we reached Splendide, Thalia was already gone. The sky was starting to lighten. Curt, one of the security guards, was sitting in his car blocking the driveway to the parking lot and giving him a view of the building's front entrance. He got out when I did, standing by as I thanked Bobby for the lift. The second I'd slammed the door shut he pulled away from the curb and took off down the street.

"Hey Sookie," the Were greeted, and then glanced down the road where Eric's impatient day guy was now stuck at the red light at the end of the block. Justice. "Late night?"

"Early morning, I think. I slept at a friend's house, but I need to get home to shower and change my clothes."

He fell into stride beside me as we walked to my car, and then jogged back to move his own so that I could get out. I waved as I left, knowing I'd be seeing him again shortly.

I parked on the street, and after checking carefully for brains in the surrounding area, I got out, grabbed my mail, and darted inside.

There were two messages on my answering machine, causing me to check my cell phone and discover three missed calls there as well – two from Mr. Cataliades, and one from Gran.

To my infinite relief, Gran's message was only asking me when I might be able to get out there again to bring her all the paperwork I'd been keeping track of since the fire. She was ready to resume handling her own affairs, and no wonder. She was still on house arrest recuperating and there's really only so much daytime television a person can watch. I'd also be willing to bet that Jason's house hadn't been so clean since our mother was alive.

Mr. Cataliades only said that we had urgent business to discuss. _No shit, Mr. C._ I needed time to think before I called him back.

I showered, made breakfast and coffee, put in a load of laundry, checked my email, and went through my mail, which consisted only of a church bulletin, a couple of catalogs, and a brochure from a realtor's office addressed to Mrs. Fuller providing tips on "How to Make Your Home Ready to Sell."

_Sookie, it's time for you to leave._

He'd been trying to use his mind ju-ju on me, which didn't work, but he knew I could feel it. Is this what he was trying to tell me? Was today the day I slip away in the daylight hours, never to be seen again?

I went to work, because it's what I do. Because I was first in, I made the coffee, even though I'd drunk plenty at home. It was Don Callaway, not Holly, who was next to arrive.

"Morning Sookie, you're in awfully early."

"I've got some calls to make before I get started," I replied, and then wished him a good day before excusing myself.

Mr. Cataliades answered the phone on the first ring.

"My dear, I can't tell you how relieved I am to be hearing from you."

I felt my stomach lurch.

"I met Andre last night."

"I feared that you might," he replied.

"At Eric's. He was trying to keep me out of the way, but that didn't work. Andre showed up just before dawn, said the Queen wants to meet me, and she's coming here."

"Yes. The rest of the party is already en route. We'll be leaving New Orleans shortly."

"You're traveling with her? Are you going tonight?"

Various comments he had made over the years assured me that Mr. Cataliades _could_ fight, but it was hard to picture the rotund and benevolent businessman in the thick of the fray.

"I'll be attending her Majesty, in Shreveport."

"So you'll be there?"

"Yes."

"Do you think I should be?"

"I'm not sure how you can politely refuse."

"And impolitely refusing is not an option."

"I should say not."

"Then I'm screwed. This is what we've always been afraid of."

He didn't reply, which only meant that I was right. Brenda and Holly were upstairs now, and someone else who was probably Mintah's clerk, given the early hour.

"Mr. C? I need to figure out my game plan. I'll call you back in a little while."

"Be sure to use a secure line, when you do."

"Got it. Take care."

"And you, Miss Stackhouse. You take care."

Okay. Reality check. The Vampire Queen of Louisiana and about-to-be-Arkansas knows that I'm part fairy, knows I can't be glamoured, and probably suspects some other stuff as well. She's at least curious enough that she wants to meet me in person to find out more. I didn't believe that "thank me for my service" crap for a second. If that were the case, she just could send a nice present or one of those edible bouquets with the strawberries dipped in chocolate. (We'd gotten one from a satisfied client a couple of months ago. So good.)

On top of that, her minion was missing, and she knew I might have more to say on that subject. She might really care about Bill's death or she might not, but either way it was leverage she would use against me. What was my choice there? Sell out Mintah and the eagles? After what Ghellert had done for me, there was no chance.

Sophie-Anne didn't know about my specific family ties or my ability, but she would absolutely try to find out. I had no idea how far that would go. Would she demand Eric confess the extent of his interest in me? Or question Pam the same way? I've seen how vampires _question_ people with my own eyes... if it even got that far.

_I'll protect you, but not at the expense of myself._

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice Brenda come in, looking particularly sharp in a taupe suit with high heels.

"Earth to Sookie..." she sang.

"Hey. You're in a good mood."

"I got some good news. We have a staff meeting in ten minutes."

"Do you need me to come up?"

"It doesn't really affect you. After you leave us, we'll be going full human. It's the Southwest branch over in Tucson that's getting downsized. We're getting their Native American specialist and their travel rep. They'll be a satellite branch and we'll be Splendide South."

I nodded. She was grinning ear to ear.

"There are going to be some shakeups up north as well, so we'll see what happens."

"That's great news."

"It is. We have some changes to inventorying and appraising coming down as well. There's this 3-D imaging software, and special cameras... so someone... maybe you, I don't know, over in Scotland will review everything we take in or examine, and they'll authorize us to buy anything that's _not kosher_, or needs further examination. And the best part is no more night appointments. I've been authorized to ditch the fangers, too."

"What about the W- others?"

She bit her lip, "I want to keep them, but they work for the vampires. I'll talk to Colonel Flood. Maybe he can work something out. Or maybe even start a new company, and hire them on."

Eric would just _love_ that... having both his business and his employees usurped. Brenda, on the other hand, was happier than a pig in mud.

I understood what Mintah was doing exactly. He'd been crossed by supes in this area, and he wasn't going to let that slide. I suppose the technical affiliation of the guilty parties didn't matter much when you were making a point. Mintah was expanding his business while deliberately excluding the supes – choosing humans over them, even. That would cause some ripples, but the message was crystal clear: _Keep your politics away from me and mine._

It must be nice to be able to afford to make a statement.

What would he do when the Queen pressed her interest in me? Would he stick his neck out on my behalf? Would it come to more violence? It was possible, but the complications that would result from that were too numerous to even contemplate.

"So we'll be sending everyone home after lunch, except for Don, who has a set appointment in Clarice. You don't get to go home early, unfortunately. Management will be in later, but that Leonard's coming down as soon as we go into the meeting. He needs your help in the vault."

"Sure."

"I ordered catering, for us" she burbled. "I'll save you a sandwich, okay?"

She departed to go enjoy the rest of her _best day ever. _I truly was glad for her. I was just so fraught for myself that it paled in comparison. She hadn't even noticed that it was nearly eleven, and I hadn't actually begun to work. Another ten minutes wouldn't kill me.

Leonard arrived with a list, and more of his crates.

"These things are coming with us."

He trudged into the lab, leaving me to get started bringing things in while he brought down packing materials and started assembling the crates. On one of my trips back and forth, I realized he'd finished the heavy lifting and had resumed list-making. I had a lot to get through, and could use a hand.

"Could you get the will-o-wisp? It activates when I touch it."

"Does it?" he asked, eying me speculatively. People needed to stop looking at me like that.

"Yes. But it also works on me, so would you?"

"Can't. Averse reaction."

Huh.

"I'll leave it till last then. Maybe Ghe-" No. "Maybe one of the eagles can get it when Mintah comes in," I finished softly.

He nodded and made to go back to writing before he cocked his head, his eyes unfocused. He quickly began shuffling his papers back into a manilla folder, and when he caught my confused expression, he simply explained, "He's here."

I darted a few steps ahead of him, holding up a hand to halt him before he reached the doors.

"Could I go up and talk to him first?" I asked, and when he looked dubious I continued, "It's really important. Life or death, honestly, I swear."

After that he nodded, and a few moments later, I was being ordered to, "Enter," Brenda's office.

"What do you need, Miss Stackhouse?" he asked, after I'd settled. "You are not changing your mind about the new position." It was a statement, because of course he knew I wasn't.

"You're leaving tonight, right?"

"Yes. My business in this area is now concluded, hopefully for some time to come."

"Are you returning to Scotland?"

"Why do you ask this?"

His eyes were on mine, and I knew he was trying to read my mind, searching for the root of my questions. Demanding to know his movements and planned whereabouts was risky. Eventually I'd be included, to an extent, but this was one of the trappings of his power, the deliberate mystery and unaccountability. I leaned forward, reaching a hand across the desk with my palm up.

Bowing this way was a supplicating gesture, and the open palm a fairly ancient symbol of meaning no harm... well, it has a lot of different meanings in different places actually, but it's universally positive. Between us though, I hoped it conveyed honesty. I was offering my skin to touch, if he chose, as I let my shields fall away. The clamor of mental voices coming from the conference room across the hall was easy enough to ignore, I was so focused on this task.

I consider myself to be a proud woman, but like TLC and the Temptations before them, I ain't too proud to beg. This was pretty much my only out, at least the only one that left my any possibility of keeping my normal life.

"I need to come with you, tonight."

"Explain," he said, laying his hand across my wrist.

I did so, in full. I was nervous when I got to Bill. I didn't accuse him of anything, but I couldn't hide the resentment I felt. Whatever Mintah and Sasha had done with him had caused both me and Eric a major problem. Then of course I had to think of Eric, and admit the fear that he wouldn't... he couldn't, and wasn't willing, to protect me further.

"If I stay, I get in deeper with the vampires, no choice about it," I concluded. "And if I flee... well, that's pretty suspicious. Maybe they wouldn't care, but what would I do with myself? It's not like I have a widely transferable skillset. I doubt I could get a job as a waitress. Or, maybe they would care, and they'd press Eric or Pam, or my family, and in the end they'd know a whole lot more about me."

I took a deep breath, ready to continue pleading until he saw my side of things or told me no, but instead he spoke, interrupting me for the first time since I began my diatribe.

"And coming with me now will provide you with the excuse you need to get away safely, while preserving your ability to stay in contact with your family and friends."

"Yes."

"You will be shielding yourself from the vampires with my name, formally."

"I guess I would be." It would be a proper alignment, not just an association.

The office phone rang then, and I heard Holly's tiny voice inform Mintah that I had a phone call. Moment of truth time.

Mintah handed me the phone and I told the receptionist to go ahead and transfer.

"Hello? Sookie Stackhouse speaking."

"Ms. Stackhouse, this is Genna Heartly, calling on behalf of Sophie-Anne LeClerq. I'd like to confirm a ten o'clock meeting with Ms. LeClerq at the Trifecta Hotel in Shreveport tonight."

"I'm sorry Miss Heartly, but I can't confirm that..."

I looked helplessly at my employer. I still didn't have his answer. It was no less astonishing than the first time I had seen it when he took up a pen in his phantom hand and scrawled the number 9 on one of Brenda's pink Post-it notes.

A wave of relief washed over me.

"Please give the Queen my sincere apologies, but I'll be leaving the city on business tonight."

"I see. Would you like to reschedule?"

"No," I told her. "I'm afraid I'll be out of the country for some time."


	38. Keep Your Vampires Numbered

**I have posted two chapters at once - make sure you read 37 first!**

* * *

In the last chapter:

Sookie was disappointed to arrive at Eric's and find he wasn't home. On the eve of the Arkansas takeover, the vampires gathered for a planning meeting at Fangtasia, with one notable absence. With Andre in town, and with the rumors surrounding Sookie's fairy heritage and resistance to glamour, Eric didn't want to risk leaving her alone at her house, but when Andre came to confront Eric about Bill's whereabouts, he found Sookie anyway.

A face-to-face meeting with Queen Sophie-Anne was imminent, and Mr. Cataliades only seemed to corroborate Sookie's fears. Again she pondered fleeing outright, but was loathe to entirely give up her life and her work.

Word came down about the future of Splendide Southeast. Mintah is cutting all ties with the supes in the area and the location will operate solely as a human antiques dealer. With his business in Shreveport concluded, Mintah prepared to leave town. Sookie pleaded with him to allow her to join him, giving her an ironclad excuse to get the hell out of dodge. He agreed.

* * *

Chapter 38 – Keep Your Vampires Numbered

I had about six hours until I needed to be back at Splendide to be picked up, as Leonard remarked, "With the other cargo." And of course, I had to finish packing _that_ as well.

With Mintah's permission, I left work. My first stop was the bank to withdraw money. I'd have to change it to Pounds when I arrived. I did think to tell the manager that I'd be traveling for business. She was kind enough to put a note on my account, so no one would flip out and cancel my card, thinking it was fraud if I used it in a foreign country. I'd have to open a new account over there as soon as I could, but it didn't hurt to be prepared in the mean time.

I would have patted myself on the back a little more my excellent foresight, if I could have spared the time. I went to the post office and had them hold my mail for the maximum of thirty days. I took their brochure about the forwarding options, as well as a change of address form.

At home I took one of Jason's old duffle bags from football and filled it with most of my bathroom stuff, wrapping everything up in a couple of towels. It would have to suffice for cushioning everything, and protecting from any spills.

I emptied the contents of my underwear drawer into the old suitcase that Gran had bought me before I left for college. It had roller wheels and some of the zippers unzipped to give a bit more space. I filled it with as many jeans, blouses, and sweaters as I could fit. My suits went into the non-matching garment bag, along with four pairs of shoes. Finally I packed my laptop, and with it went my jewelry and important documents.

I felt like a criminal as I hustled it all out to the car, my eyes darting around to try to catch anything my telepathy didn't. There was no one around but an older lady out for her afternoon constitutional. I returned her friendly greeting, but didn't stay to chat. Under any other circumstances, I would have felt guilty about that rudeness.

I emptied my refrigerator of everything perishable, and faced the conundrum of where to put the bag. Tomorrow wasn't trash day, but there'd be no one to put the can out on the curb if I waited. I double-bagged it and left it by the road with a silent apology to my neighbors. This was a tidy block, and leaving garbage out on the street for days just wasn't done. Hopefully no animals would get in to it.

Back inside, I had a more difficult task.

"Oh, hello Sookie! Did you get my message? What are you doing home so early?" Unlike Gran's home phone, Jason's displayed the name of the caller.

"Yes, I got your message. I'm sorry I didn't call back, I got home late."

"Did your Eric take you out on a date?" she inquired.

"Gran, I need to talk to you about something serious. Do you remember about William Compton, who moved in by you?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Things on that front have gotten a little more complicated."

"Are you in trouble, Sookie?"

"Yes ma'am," I said honestly. "But I'm trying very hard not to be. I was going to tell you soon, but I have some other news as well."

"Go ahead," she said warily. I knew that tone of voice, and I cringed. It was the same one she had used when we were kids, and Jason got picked up by the Sheriff for painting pictures of penises on the brick wall behind the Buy and Bag. They hadn't pressed charges, but Gran and I had to go and pick him up from the station. She had seen to it that he and Hoyt scrubbed down that wall for three Saturdays in a row, till it looked better than new.

"I've been offered a promotion at work..."

"Sookie, you scared me half to death! That's not bad news!"

"The position is in Edinburgh. In Scotland."

"Scotland?"

"Yes."

"The country?"

"Yes Gran, the country. As in bagpipes, and golf, and Sean Connery..."

"Sookie, I've heard of Scotland," she admonished. "This sure is exciting," Gran offered, sounding more confused than actually excited.

"I'm leaving tonight. It wasn't supposed to be this soon, but I asked if it could be. Things are a little dangerous here right now."

"Tonight?"

I let out a long sigh. "I know we haven't talked about this for a while, but we always agreed that should push come to shove, then I should go. They're pushing, Gran. This is pretty much the only way I can leave and ever hope to come back to see you again."

She said nothing for so long that I had to ask if she was still on the line.

"I'm here."

"I have all the insurance papers that you need gathered up. I can drop them in the mail if you want, but I was hoping maybe you could send Jason up here, just to check on everything. In the daytime."

"We can do that," she assured me. "Do you know when you're going to be back?"

"I can't say for sure," I said honestly. "Maybe in a couple of weeks, just to take care of some business, but maybe not for longer. It depends on a lot of things."

Mostly it depended on how distracted Queen Sophie-Anne would be by the acquisition of Arkansas. I was operating under the assumption that it was a sure thing, because the alternative – a failed attempt, when Eric and Pam were fighting – was unthinkable.

"You can come see me too," I said quickly. "I'll buy you a ticket."

"We'll see," she answered.

"So I'll just leave these papers right on the kitchen table..."

At some point I had begun crying. It was hard to get my words out.

"Do you have the house shut down?"

"I've got the fridge cleared out. I'll turn the heat down before I go..."

"We'll come on Sunday, after church."

"Thank you."

"It's okay baby girl. Will you call me when you get there, and let me know where you're staying?"

"I'll call you as soon as I can. There's a time difference, so I'll try not to call too early..."

"You call me as soon as you're settled. I don't care about the time," she said firmly. I heard the stiff sniffle that indicated that she was crying as well.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sookie. Be safe."

I promised that I would, and asked her to give my love to Hadley and Jason as well. We were another couple of minutes saying goodbye, but I really had to go. My tissue box was about the only thing left in the bathroom. I grabbed a handful and tucked them into my purse.

The last thing I did was sit down and write a letter.

_Dear Pam,_

_Tonight, while you guys are on your way to Little Rock, I'll be on my way to Scotland with Mintah's entourage. As a member of it, really. I'm sure you can guess why I'm leaving so abruptly. I'm sorry in advance if this causes you any trouble, but this is the best way for me to go at this point. I hope you'll understand._

_Maybe you're wondering why I'm writing to you. It's because you're the more impartial party. I don't want either you or Eric to worry tonight, and I'm asking you a favor. I need you to convince him that I'm safe. Maybe that's silly. I'm sure he'll be focused on the task at hand... but just in case, tell him what he needs to hear. You know him best._

_I'll be in touch when I can. Maybe I'll even see you again soon. If not, I hope it's not crazy to say that I'll miss you, your crazy dominatrix outfits, and all of your teasing. If you're ever in Edinburgh, look me up. We can do each other's nails (at home) and watch made-for-TV movies. I'll try to explain why the abused woman doesn't just kill her good-for-nothing husband._

_Be safe._

_Your friend,_

_Sookie Stackhouse_

I wanted to say that I believed that Eric had told me to do this, but there was no need to put that down on paper. If it was true, she'd know. It occurred to me that they might be held accountable for allowing me to leave. If necessary, the letter could serve as some proof that they hadn't known until it was too late to prevent it.

I sealed it in an envelope and wrote her name on the front. I did a final sweep of the house, making sure all the windows were closed and locked. The last thing I grabbed before I left was the church bulletin that had come in the mail. There was a picture of Gran, Hadley, Jason, and I from the Christmas Eve service. It was the only photo we'd taken since our family had been reunited, and I wanted to carry it with me.

Everything looked fine outside, apart from the large patch of dirt from where Bill had spent the night. Hopefully Mrs. Fuller would believe I was intending on planting a small vegetable patch or something. In the middle of January.

I took a detour to Pam's house on my way back to Splendide and wedged the letter into the seam between her steel front door and the weather stripping on the frame. She'd find it.

After some debate, I drove around to the service entrance at work and left my worldly possessions by the loading dock. The regular parking lot would probably be the safest place to leave my car; surveilled as it was, 24/7. When I talked to Gran again, I could ask her about picking it up. She had all my spare keys. I bet Hadley wouldn't mind driving it for a while.

The shifts had changed and Curt was gone, replaced by Ralph and Tray. They were having an easy day of it, since we were effectively closed at that point. I started towards them with the intention of stopping to inform them about keeping my car there for a few days, but Tray actually flagged me down first.

"Hey, Sookie! You got a moment?"

"Sure," I called, feeling compelled to jog the last few feet to reach them. "What's up?"

"We were wondering if you knew..." began Ralph, shifting his hands in his pockets uncomfortably.

"We've been hearing a lot of rumors about this place lately, and we were wondering if you knew what's what," Tray cut in. "This is a good gig, but if it's not gonna last, we wanna know up front."

"I've only got hearsay for you, but I'll tell what I know. You've heard the branch is going all-human?"

"We ain't heard nothing," Ralph answered. "Besides people saying the branch is closing, that some people are getting let go, and some are getting transferred. We heard you've got a new job with the Big Boss."

I held up a hand.

"The branch isn't closing. This location is going human-only. No more supe clients at all. Yes, I'm transferring overseas. No one is getting fired. They'll be some new human employees coming here in the next couple of months."

"So will this affect us?" Tray asked.

"It kind of depends on Brenda. You know how she feels about the vampires..."

They both sniggered. She'd plainly made her feelings known to them just as much as she did to me. Then again, these were two Weres. Regardless of who employed them, it was likely that they shared her sentiments.

"Right, so, Thalia and Anthony are probably out. I think she does want to keep you guys. She doesn't want to keep doing business with Eric, but she mentioned talking to Flood to work something out."

"Flood's not our Packmaster," Ralph interrupted.

"You just asked me what I knew," I said defensively. "I'm just telling you what I know."

"Got it," Tray interjected. "I take it Eric doesn't know he might be losing business here yet?"

"He doesn't, no."

"I'll give him a call when the sun goes down."

"No!" I blurted out, drawing their stares. "Like I said, this is just hearsay."

"I'd think you of all people would be interested in keeping him in the loop, rumor or no," Tray said, quite shrewdly.

"I'm not trying to keep things from him," I said sternly. "This is plainly a conflict of interest for me. I've told you what I know because you asked me directly, and because I know your livelihoods depend on this work. Eric's doesn't. This is just one contract of many to him, and if he's displeased, it'll be between him and Management, not him and me. Don't you go running off saying 'Sookie says this or that.' You'll make me regret my honesty," I warned, wagging a finger between the two of them like a scolding schoolmarm.

"Right," Ralph said sheepishly, covering for Tray who was still watching me and thinking hard. "Sorry, Sookie."

"That's just fine. I really hope it all comes to nothing."

Tray knew something was up, but I wasn't my place to inform him of the real reason I didn't want them calling. Just as I'd tried to explain to Pam, I wanted no distractions for Eric before this fight.

Besides that, I feared my departure would leave him in a lurch concerning Bill. He'd certainly be held accountable if "his human" was found to have colluded in the murder of another vampire, or maybe even done the deed herself.

This was a fine opportunity to lay more groundwork for the "Actually, Your Majesty, there's quite a lot of stuff that Sookie concealed from us" defense.

I told them about my car, and they were surprised by the news that I was leaving tonight. I played it off as if I'd known all along I'd be departing with Mintah's entourage, but simply hadn't realized it would be so soon. I think they bought it.

I begged their pardon and then let myself in the building, locking the doors behind me, and heading straight back to the loading dock. It felt like wasted work to drag all my possessions up the ramp to secure them inside the doors. My shoulders were already aching, and all this stuff would just have to be hauled back out again in a little while, but I didn't want to leave them outside. There were cameras back here, but it wouldn't exactly do me any good to have a video of the crime if someone stole my stuff tonight.

There's a mechanism that will lower the rolling steel door automatically, but it's tediously slow. It was my established habit to leap up and grab for the strap which could lower the door manually. It was kind of fun for a few seconds if you scrunched up and rode the door down, falling slightly slower than gravity would normally allow. I was just poised to leap when the company truck rumbled into view. Don Callaway was back from his appointment, and as he came into my range and parked, I detected satisfaction emanating from his brain. He must have made some good acquisitions today.

"Hey Don," I called out, as he hopped down from the cab. I startled him. He must not have noticed the open door.

"Sookie, hey. I wasn't expecting anyone to still be here."

"I've got to finish packing some stuff for transport tonight. Do you need a hand getting anything off the truck?"

I hoped he would say no, and he didn't disappoint me. "That's alright, I'll get it." He was agitated and feeling a little surly. I guess this was a long and tiresome day for him as well.

I'd held out the hope that Leonard would have given in and done some of the packing, but he hadn't. I had a literal pile of work to do, and I got to it.

It wasn't long before I started to sweat. It's a good thing all my clothes were here. I'd definitely need to change before getting on a plane, or woe betide the poor people stuck sitting next to me for various stints of the sixteen hour journey. Logic dictated that we'd take a small plane to New Orleans, then fly to somewhere on the east coast, before heading to the UK. Hopefully we wouldn't have to stop in London as well, but you never know. I hadn't been given an itinerary. I expected Leonard would have my tickets. We hadn't discussed if I'd need to pay Mintah back for them.

Dusk came on pretty quickly, and with that my thoughts turned to Eric. He'd be waking up any minute now.

On one trip upstairs, I heard the phone ringing. At first I ignored it, but when it was still going the next time I went through the hall, I darted up to Holly's desk to answer it.

"Good evening, Splendide Southeast," I answered tentatively, ready to inform the incessant caller to try back tomorrow during business hours.

"Sookie, is that you?" came Holly's voice. "Oh thank God someone picked up! Are you still in the building?"

"Well yes... I'm answering the phone."

"I'm so sorry. I've been going crazy. Are you at my desk?"

I told her that I was, and she sent me searching through her drawers for a folder full of her son's medical and immunization records. She needed to give them to the school tomorrow, and had been going crazy searching for them at home. Thankfully I found what she was looking for, and agreed she could come pick them up tonight, warning her to get here quickly.

I could see Tray through the double doors out front, and watched him jump as I buzzed the outdoor intercom right behind him.

"Holly's on her way here. She's left some papers in her desk that she needs for Cody's school tomorrow. Just keep hitting the buzzer when she comes, and I'll come unlock the doors."

It took him a moment to find the reply button, but he did, and confirmed he'd do as I asked. He leaned in close to the window, cupping his hands over his eyes so he could see inside. I knew from experience that the glare of the outside lights on the glass could make it difficult to see in, particularly at this time of day. I went back to drop off a crate, nearly colliding with a frazzled Don in the hallway.

"Whoa, sorry."

"It's okay," he answered quickly, making it extra awkward by insisting on squeezing past me rather than backing up and letting me pass through. He seemed to be in just as much of a hurry to get his work done as I. I got some strong resentment coming from him. He was probably pissed about not getting the free afternoon that everyone else had.

It was about half an hour later when I heard the incessant buzzing. I jogged up the stairs, snatching the folder off the desk and went to meet Holly at the door. She looked like a different person than I saw here every day, wearing jeans and an old LSU sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and Cody was hanging off her arm. If I hadn't believed before that she'd torn her house apart looking for these papers, I absolutely would believe it now. She looked frazzled, though I'd wager I looked no better at that moment.

"Oh thank God," she repeated, with genuine relief as I pushed the door open.

"Mom, mom, mom, mom," her son was saying as he tugged at her arm.

"What is it?" she asked wearily, ignoring me.

"I have to use the men's room," he announced.

I grinned, nodding when she shot me a hopeful but apologetic look that I interpreted as a request that they come inside to use the bathroom. Before I could even finish stepping back, the boy had ducked under my arm and taken off down the hall. He'd been here before, and knew exactly where he was going.

"No running in here!" Holly called after him, before turning to me. "He's been trading his lunch for candy bars, and he eats them before dinner," she explained, accounting for his extreme exuberance.

I made a sympathetic face, unsure of how to reply. I had done a little babysitting in high school, but that hardly prepared me to make conversation about the tribulations of motherhood. Back then I was still struggling to control my ability, and Saturday nights spent basking in the happy and uncomplicated thoughts of children were much more enjoyable than ones spent in the company of my hormonal peers, who mostly thought I was half retarded.

I did have a little small talk that might interest Holly. Yes, I should have been working, but at that point I was grateful for the breather. My shoulders were absolutely killing me, just from pushing the cart around.

"You know, I thought of you when I saw Octavia Fant the other day. From the Genuine Magic Shop?"

"In New Orleans?" she queried.

"Yeah," I agreed. "She came up to help me with some... holistic medicine, after the accident."

"Wow. That's a long trip."

"It is, I'm very grateful she made it. Anyway, I thought of you. I know you're not into the um, practical side of things really, but do you work with herbs at all? She gave me this tea, I want to say it was arnica based..."

"Arnica's a major healing herb," she agreed. "All kinds of good properties. I use it in poultices for Cody when he gets banged up on the playground. It's also supposed to be useful against psychic attacks... but that's pretty vague."

"Huh," I said thoughtfully, wondering if that might be some component of the mind shielding that Octavia did. "You wouldn't be able to recommend any books on the subject, would you?"

She was quick to rattle off different Wiccan volumes, by publishers like Moon Spirit Eclipse, and Sequoia Grove. It all sounded like stuff my brother would have called "hippy dippy," but after this week, I had a new found respect for these tinctures and potions. It could be handy folk knowledge, in the same way as the contents of the Farmer's Almanac.

It all happened incredibly fast. We heard the thunder of Cody's hurried footsteps as he stormed down the hall, the bellow of Don Callaway as the boy plowed into him, and the ominous clatter of many very rare and very expensive objects tumbling to the ground.

Holly and I took off at once, and what we encountered made my blood run cold. Cody was on his butt, wailing like a banshee and clutching his leg. Don was on his hands and knees, unleashing a stream of curses so foul they'd make Pam Ravenscroft blush, but that wasn't what held my attention either.

It was the objects that were scattered around the floor, the will-o-the-wisp, a pair of Pictish cold stones (for counteracting an Evil Eye curse), a large geode that I recognized as the adder stone (for seeing through glamor magics), a _lot_ of jewelry, and a number of magic scrolls. They worked just like in the video games, though they're not so flashy. These were complicated verses written onto old vellum, which when read aloud by anyone, would have a specific effect. The most valuable of these was the Bienensegen, used to control a swarm of bees (or independent women, depending on your translation). Something else made of glass which I could no longer identify had shattered into a hundred pieces. And then there were the swords.

One had clearly gone flying as Don tripped. It lay nearest my feet. He was stretching to reach the other. I didn't even bother stooping for mine. I'd end up doing more harm than good with a weapon in my hand that I didn't know how to use.

This was the exact reason why Jason had made certain I knew how to fire a gun. Why the hell hadn't I asked Eric to show me how to use a sword?!

It was too late now. Don had already armed himself. I didn't think he knew how to use a sword either, but he had one regardless. He pointed it at _Cody_.

I didn't have to ask what he was doing. It was pretty freaking clear he was trying to rob us.

"Why?" I asked.

"You think I'm stupid?"

_Incredibly._

"You think I don't know what's going on here?" he demanded.

"What do you think is going on here, Don?" I asked calmly, stepping in front of Holly, whose mental voice was screaming at her to make a lunge for her son.

"You've got Brenda Hesterman wasting the whole morning spouting this cock and bull about restructuring and modernizing... then you send everyone home while you sneak in at night to pack up everything valuable? You think I don't know what this place is really about?"

"Why don't you tell me, Don? Why don't you let Cody come to his momma," I said, taking a step forward.

"Don't fucking move!" he shouted, thrusting the sword once in my direction before swinging it back toward the boy, who whimpered. I recognized the blade he was holding, and knew that it was sharp. We kept it stored in a case in the vault, but I guess he'd been intending on traveling light.

"Let Cody up, Don. Point that sword at me," I urged him, keeping my voice as even as I could manage.

"Don't act like you don't know how many black market antiquities are down there," Don accused. "I've talked to the cops, even they know."

"You talked to the police?" I asked with confusion.

"That was practically all they wanted to know about after we got _robbed_," he emphasized the word as if he didn't believe that's what had happened. "This place is under investigation by the CPAC, and just like you and our boss, I'm getting out with something to my name."

The Cultural Property Advisory Committee is the branch of the U.S. State Department that regulates the import and export of cultural artifacts in accordance with international agreements. I'd known that some of the cops that had investigated after the robbery had been extra curious about what was in our vault, but if they had actually reported us the federal committee, this was the first I was hearing about it.

"Don, what Brenda told you today is true. This branch is being expanded..."

"Don't fucking bullshit me!"

I took a step to the left, dropped to the floor, and snatched up the will-o-the-wisp, thrusting it out in front of me, where it began in to brighten and swirl in its hypnotizing glow.

_Someone will find us this way_... was my last conscious thought for some time.

The brilliant golden light was threaded with beams of silvery blue and a viridescent green, like some exotic butterfly. They shimmered in the air in the same way, pulsing just as the wet wings beat together when the insect first emerges from its chrysalis. It was lovely. I was _aware_ of that.

I could see Don through the golden haze, his wide mouth gaping. Like a big startled toad, I thought, and heard myself giggle. _What was wrong with me?_

I turned away from the orb, and the whole world got a little sharper. I wanted to be looking at it, but I found I could resist that urge. It was almost like when Eric did his calling me to him thing, only much stronger.

Behind me, Holly was also honed in on the 'wisp, eyes wide and eager. I was incredibly relieved to discover that at this range, its effect on the other people in the room was quite literally stunning. They were meant to captivate from long distances. It was incredibly potent right up close.

I sort of backwards crab-walked over to Cody, seeing his small form out of the very corner of my eye. It wasn't exactly careful, but it would be a whole lot better for him then a sword poking his ribs. My fingers scrabbled at his collar until they caught hold and with an agonizing wrench, I dragged him back a few inches. In that moment his hands flew up and he seized my wrist with both hands.

"Cody?" I gritted out.

"Miss Sookie?" he cried softly.

_It doesn't work on children._

Fairies _like_ children. They didn't make magics that would lead them into harm.

"Cody, run to the front door, and keep banging on it until the guards come around. Shout 'help' okay?"

Stupidly, I looked around then, to be sure he'd understood me. I caught the light again, and there I went, just as transfixed by the beauty before me as Don and Holly.

It was fish leaping joyfully out from sun spangled rills the next time I came to. The glittering reds and purples were just like wet scales glinting in flashes of brilliant summer sunlight. I snapped my head around again.

"Tray?" I called out weakly. Distantly, I could hear the frightened child still banging and screaming his head off. Good boy.

"Sookie!" One of the Weres.

"Don...sword... Cody."

The light was reflecting in Holly's eyes as I met them. So beautiful...

When I blinked again it was only in the harsh fluorescence of the overhead fixtures. Tray was holding the will-o-the-wisp. Ralph was holding Don's wrists, his knee resting firmly against the man's spine, pinning him to the ground. He was still struggling a bit.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed in relief as I slumped to the ground, totally indifferent to the glass on the floor.

Holly had gone after her son. In my head I gave a silent and more formal thanks to God. Whether it was divine intervention, or just more exposure to the object that gave me the strength to turn away, I couldn't say. I guess I hadn't done much besides rouse Cody. He hadn't been locked in captivation as we adults had been, but he'd been in his own sort of stupor; the kind where you're so scared you can't move. Been there, done that.

Tray was trying to talk to me, and I didn't have the luxury of just sitting there for half an hour and calming down like I wanted to. In truth, I hadn't exactly panicked, which was probably why my phone wasn't ringing with Eric demanding to know what had happened. I did have the incredibly heavy and exhausted feeling that marks the aftermath of _An Ordeal_.

I accepted Tray's hand to get to my feet, and found the shallow tray that Don had been using to carry these portable valuables out of the building.

"You need to check his car and the truck. He's been in and out of the vault all evening," I heard myself say, as Tray deposited the bauble safely.

"Police?" Tray asked.

I thought of the accusations Don had made about the federal committee, and the fact that Mintah would be returning soon.

"Better not," I said, and he nodded.

We didn't have any of those fancy zip-ties, so it was good old fashioned sisal rope used to bind up Don Callaway. It had to be quite uncomfortable. He started shouting when Ralph dragged him back to the loading bay. I borrowed a tea towel from the break room to use as a gag.

In the front of the building, Holly was kneeling by her son. She had the first aid kit out and was applying Band-Aids to the superficial scratches he'd acquired from the glass.

"How's he doing?" I asked her.

"He's terrified," she informed me, an accusatory tone in her voice.

"Holly, I'm so sorry. I had no idea Don was up to anything, or that he was dangerous. I never would have let you and Cody in the building..."

"What the heck is going on here, Sookie? You let _me_ in the building every day. What _was_ all that stuff?"

"Holly..."

"I mean for God's sake Sookie! If I didn't know better, I'd say that was a will-o-the-wisp!"

I was impressed that she'd recognized it. "It was."

That caught her up short. "How?"

"They're real. You already know this Holly. It's in your religion. The Wiccan stuff? I'm not really an expert, but the magic spells and the mystical objects, the f..." _I was going to say the fairy stuff_, but I stopped myself. From what I knew, many of the Goddess figures worshiped in the Celtic Mythology that the new-age Wicca was based on, had been actual living breathing fairies. They've often been mistaken for gods throughout human history. I think it's partly what gives them such big egos.

Holly didn't need to know the fine details of that tonight. It was entirely possible that someone would be visiting her and Cody at home later to snatch away their memories of the evening's events. Just in case that didn't happen...

"Holly," I said seriously. "I think you should call Octavia Fant yourself. I think she would be the best person to guide you into... all of this."

"There's more?"

"There's a lot more," I said quietly. "But these aren't my secrets to tell. There's a way that humans do it. The witches have a structure for initiating people into... well, into the supernatural world. It's acceptable... to the vampires and... whoever else."

"Humans?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"You're not human?" she asked.

"Not entirely," I admitted, feeling I owed her that much, after what she'd seen tonight. Besides, I knew her secrets. She was a single mother in the Deep South who practiced witchcraft. She wasn't going to go toe-to-toe with me.

"I knew it!" she whispered, a small smile spreading across her face.

That was disarming, but then again, she wouldn't be the first witch who could sense my otherness.

"That's not something you can spread around," I warned.

"No, I wouldn't."

"Is Cody going to be okay?" I asked again.

"He'll be fine. He comes home with worse after a real exciting day at the park."

"There might be nightmares," I warned, just as if I had any idea what the child's coping mechanisms would be.

"We already have those," she said tiredly. "I think I'd almost prefer it, if the monster was Don instead of his daddy."

Oh boy. We were just sharing big time now, weren't we?

"What's going to happen to him?" Holly asked.

"I couldn't say," I answered truthfully. "But I think it's better that neither of us think too much about it."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Is it true what he said? About the government looking into Splendide?"

"If it is true, I've never heard of it before. He was right about one thing though. After tonight, it won't really make much difference."

I went ahead and decided it would be better if Holly and her son weren't here when Mintah arrived. Tray walked them to her car, but not before I urged her once again to get in touch with Octavia.

"I'll think about it," was all she promised.

Don's car and the company truck were clear of any stolen goods. Ralph stayed back with him by the loading dock and Tray resumed his post out front. I picked the charms and jewelry out of the debris in the hallway. I realized at last that what had broken was a particularly elegant and entirely non-magical pair of Venetian glass goblets. There was a great market for these. They were – at least they _had been _– extremely valuable.

I was on my hands and knees with a small brush trying to gather up all the stray pieces when Mintah and his people arrived.

He wasn't angry with me, which was good. I was subjected to his acute scrutiny for the second time that day. I gave my full disclosure, being careful to recall what Don had said about the police and the government with as much accuracy as I could muster. I didn't ask what would happen to him. He'd been a greedy, distrustful man, and I suspected he would receive a quick and ignoble death. I'm not saying that was what he deserved for his crimes, but it's not like there's some supernatural criminal court to mete out a more fitting justice.

Sure, there was regular human jail, but neither child endangerment nor attempted burglary were particularly egregious crimes in the eyes of the American legal system. Feeling incredibly cynical, I decided that he'd probably plea-bargain out of the whole affair in exchange for information about Mintah's illicit business practices. There'd been that threat in his words. Try to stop me, and I'll bring down this whole operation!

Well, that wasn't going to happen.

I finally did get help with the packing. Sasha wordlessly hammered crates closed and brought them upstairs as I filled them. Amazingly we were nearly on schedule. I even had my few minutes to freshen up in the ladies' room before it was time to go.

I had a moment of panic when we got to the airport hanger and rolled up beside the sleek Anubis jet which had probably delivered the Queen earlier in the day. It was now standing by in the event that she needed to make a quick getaway back to New Orleans, or possibly to carry her on to Little Rock, if all went well. There were no vampires around just then, only the human employees of the vampire airline.

Our plane was on the other side of that one. There were no markings on it apart from the painted number on its tail. I wasn't aware that Mintah had his own plane, but I suppose it made sense that he wouldn't leave the transportation of himself or his valuables to people who weren't in his direct employ. The pilot and co-pilot were shifters of some variety. They assisted the two eagles and Leonard with loading the cargo. It took a long time, since everything had to be weighed. I knew that was particularly important on these small planes, and tried not to think too hard about all the slim margins of error associated with the large metal tube that would very shortly be hurdling me through the sky.

Inside it was nice, by the standards of an airplane, but still relatively simple. There was some fake wood paneling and the seats were made of creamy brown leather, but those were probably factory-issued niceties. There was no hot tub in the back, nor sixty inch flat screen television. Two rows of seats were separated by a very narrow aisle in pairs that faced each other. Rather than the usual flip down tray tables, there was a flap you could lift so something like a cafe table could be unfolded between two seats. It kind of reminded me of a really fancy RV camper.

Mintah gestured for me to sit across from him, which was unnerving. I'd been hoping to slink off to the back (relatively, there were only eight passenger seats total) and be alone with my thoughts for a while, but I was in no position to refuse the whims of my employer.

I had to do a double take when the tiny woman emerged from the little alcove at the front of the plane. She was a dead ringer for Dr. Amy Ludwig, dressed in a neat and conservative navy blue suit with a tiny blue cap pinned to her head. Her small frame was well-suited for the cramped space, and she wore extremely sensible shoes. It wasn't until she spoke that I was convinced she was a different person. The voice was nothing similar. It was still a bit harsh and gravelly, but was a much higher pitch.

"Good evening sir, may I get you something to drink?"

Mintah requested a Scotch, and I wondered if he was trying to be funny. When she made me the same offer, I didn't hesitate to ask for a glass of red wine. She unfolded the table and set down two cloth napkins for us. This was wear the luxury came in; our drinks were served in lead crystal glasses. The few times I'd been on a plane in my life before now, it had been squat plastic cups and soda cans. She brought a dish of hot nuts along with the drinks, which smelled so good they made my mouth water. Were they just microwaved, or did she have a little oven up there to roast them herself?

Sasha did not board the plane. He was staying behind to deal with Don, but his companion did join us. He and Leonard sat in their opposite corners, quite contentedly. After we took off, I learned that we'd be traveling up to Newfoundland to refuel before proceeding across the Atlantic.

The flight was uneventful. We were served a nice dinner after which Mintah decided he wanted a game of Go. I didn't know more than the basic rules, and he beat me soundly within ten minutes. At that point I was banished to a different seat so that Leonard could entertain him. I eventually nodded off, but they were still at it when we got to Canada.

I was awakened again about a half hour before we made our final descent to a tiny airfield which I was informed was about forty-five minutes down the A7 from Edinburgh. I assumed the A7 was some kind of highway. Some might think the airport in Shreveport is tiny compared those in larger cities, but this one was truly miniscule. There was just one runway, and the man who stamped our passports seemed to double as the baggage handler, offering to help with our unloading. That accent would take some getting used to.

There were two more of Ghellert's brothers waiting to meet us in a large Land Rover. I got stuck sitting in the middle seat as we traveled to where ever. I was still so grateful to be here that I didn't pester anyone with questions which ultimately didn't matter. My fate was firmly in Mintah's hands, and I would go where he told me.

I could physically feel it when we arrived at our destination. The magics protecting this place had to be fifty times stronger than the ones that had defended my home back in Shreveport. It was like passing right up close to a radiant heater, while simultaneously suffering severe sinus pressure. It faded quickly and we drove up the lane to something Jane Austen might have called a "country home," but which I called a mansion. There were crenelations for pete's sake, and I'm pretty sure one of the out buildings I could see beyond it had a turret. Eat your heart out Mr. Faux Fieldstone.

It was freezing, and overcast. The light was strange. It seemed too early for the sun to be setting, and then I remembered just how far north we now were.

There was a flurry of activity, during which my bags were unloaded and when the eagle began carrying them inside, I raced to follow him. It seemed like a very long walk before we reached a room that was largely lavender.

"Is this where I'm staying?" I asked.

"Did you have other arrangements made?" he replied, with a hint of a smirk. He was obviously aware there I was some kind of refugee.

"No."

"Then this is where you're staying. One of his people will make arrangements for a car to take you into the city tomorrow."

He left and closed the door, and I found myself holding my breath and waiting to hear a lock, but there was only his receding footsteps. I explored the space. There was a connecting bathroom that appeared to have been fully modernized back in 1910 or so. There was no shower, but there was a big bathtub with a hand-held sprayer that would suffice just fine.

Clean, calm, and changed, I called my grandmother, warning her at once that I couldn't talk long. I didn't yet have the means to charge my phone here, and the battery needed to last me.

I assured her I was safe and sound, and staying with my boss.

"In my own room, in a completely separate part of the house," I clarified, when she sounded her disapproval. I assumed that was correct. She promised to only call in an emergency until she heard from me again, which I promised would be soon.

I checked my voice mail, and there was only one message. Pam had left it just before dawn, their time.

"I received your letter and passed along your message. Everything went fine last night. Do not contact either of us through any means. We'll speak again soon." There was a long silence and I thought perhaps she'd just forgot to hang up before her voice came through again. "I hope you had a safe journey."


	39. Wings Are Vampired

A/N: Charlaine Harris is the wonderful writer of the Southern Vampire Mysteries. FiniteAnarchy is the wonderful beta for this story.

The **half-plus-seven rule** purports to dictate a person's age appropriate dating range. For example if you are 30, the youngest person you can date is 22 (30/2 + 7), and after that it's considered creepy.

Obviously things get tricky when attempting to apply this rule to vampires. I propose the following equation for the immortal dating pool, which I will call the **log-plus-legal rule**.

Log(Supe_Age) + Age_of_Majority

(Just in case you are not a math geek, that was _mildly amusing._)

* * *

In the last chapter:

Sookie made hasty preparations to leave Shreveport. The hardest part was telling Gran that she didn't know when she'd be back.

At Splendide, it was clear that not all of the employees were satisfied with the information Brenda had provided about the upcoming changes. Don Callaway tried to rob the vault, but was foiled by Sookie's use of the will-o-the-wisp. Holly Cleary was there to see it, leaving the Wiccan with plenty of food for thought about real magic.

The trip to Scotland was uneventful. With nowhere else to go, Sookie was given a comfortable room in a far flung corner of Mintah's residence. She heard from Pam who assured her that the takeover went well, but warned not to contact any of the vamps in Shreveport.

She hopes that the seeds of doubt she planted regarding just how forthcoming she'd been with the vampires of her acquaintance will be enough to keep them out of trouble with the Queen.

* * *

Chapter 39 – Wings Are Vampired

No one told me that I couldn't explore the house. In fact, I hadn't seen anyone at all, nor caught any mental signatures. Apart from the innumerable furnishings, the place was completely vacant.

Mintah had many fine things. Every room was decorated in a particular style which seemed to fit the space, and no style seemed to be overlooked. It was such a contrast to the way Eric lived. The vampire was a thousand years old, but I'd wager he could (and probably had) fit all the possessions he truly valued into a single trunk. Mintah seemed to be stretching the limits of a single _estate_, and I didn't doubt he valued every object in the place.

"Why is it that your sponsor did not properly teach you to shield your own mind?" Mintah asked, startling me. I had no idea he was still in the house.

"I think he always intended to, but our lessons focused primarily on helping me to cope with being around other humans."

"Among our own kind, we teach this last."

"Among your own kind... you are among your own kind," I countered. "I've always lived alongside other humans."

"I am not accustomed to shielding my mind in my own home," he continued, changing the subject. "Nor to having the presence of another. You will need to learn while you remain here, and for the future."

"Thank you for letting me stay. I'll find a rental agent if I can get into town tomorrow, and with luck, I won't be imposing on you for long."

"We were speaking of quieting your mind."

He strode forward and seized the sides of my head before I could protest, forcing my face up so that my eyes met his. What happened next was alarming and awful, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

I could feel him moving around my mind, pulling apart the shields that I maintained at the most basic level and rearranging them.

As he did so there were flashes of noise, that detuned static I'd associated with Mr. Cataliades and his nieces, but it was booming loud, painfully so. At times there were shapes and colors there. Through the panic I finally realized I was hearing Mintah's mind, unfiltered.

"Correct," he agreed, withdrawing from me as a more absolute silence than I'd known in the company of any creature besides a vampire fell around me. "Now maintain this."

My head throbbed and I staggered dizzily backward, throwing my hand out to catch the nearest wall. There was a knot in my stomach which seemed to punctuate the fact that I'd been horrifically violated by the demon. It took a few moments for me to catch my balance, both physically and mentally.

It _was_ quiet. Even the little I normally got from him was being blocked out.

For his part, Mintah looked satisfied.

"This is much better."

"Is it?" I rasped. It felt like serious mental contortion to me.

"Yes. I can no longer hear you, and I am free to relax."

And I was not.

His house, his rules.

That wasn't an easy dismissal to make. For the millionth time in my life, I had to remind myself that the person I as dealing with was _not_ human. He wasn't treating _me_ like a human either.

He was treating me like a child. Like a _demon_ child. He had corrected me in the same way that a parent might scoop up a five-year-old, forcing her to sit properly in a chair at the dinner table. It was purposeful and against my will, but it was not malicious.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

"This feels unnatural," I told him.

"Your naturally developed defenses were inadequate. You will grow accustomed to this."

This was plainly non-negotiable, so I just nodded. I had the answer to how two telepaths could coexist in close proximity. One of them mind-rapes the other into quietude and then stands there all smug and at ease.

Then again... he'd shown me how to shield my thoughts from him entirely. That was a big display of trust, right?

"In time you will develop a more fluid response to the minds in your surroundings, rather than the static approach you have taken in the past, and will take so long as you remain here. This is what suits me, and thus is what I will expect when we are in company, or when you wish to leave your quarters."

"I...understand." It was difficult to think about talking while concentrating on keeping this up.

"Good. A taxi cab will arrive tomorrow morning at eight to take you to into the town. You will need to meet the car at the end of the lane. No visitors are permitted on the grounds."

"Are there any other rules I should be aware of?"

"These two will suffice for now."

Back in the comfort of _my quarters_, I very slowly relaxed the mental barriers that Mintah had constructed in my head. Then I raised them. Then I relaxed them, repeating this until I believed I would have some success at establishing them on my own.

The following morning I bundled up in the warmest clothes I owned. They were still insufficient for warding off the cold as I waited at the end of the lane for the car service to come and retrieve me. It was a relief when I finally saw the glow of headlights through the pre-dawn fog. At this time of year, the days were more than an hour shorter on either end than they were back home.

On the way in to Edinburgh, the driver and I shared some stilted conversation about my extremely recent arrival in his fine country. The most awkward moment came when I had to ask where he'd picked me up. I didn't know the address, nor even the town where Mintah's home was located. The driver thought that was a riot, but he gave it to me nonetheless.

"It's called Downy-Ben House, Dearie," he told me, or at least that's what it sounded like. "And that's the name of the village as well."

I asked him to spell it, and because this was Gaelic, it came out "Deamhanbeinn." I didn't get the joke until I looked it up later. Mintah lived in _Demon Hill_.

When we reached the city, the driver took me to a bank so I could change my _notes_. He was kind enough to turn off the meter while I ran inside, not that this did much to help the truly astronomical fare I paid for that ride. I was grateful just the same, and gave him a good tip. I wasn't sure of the etiquette, but he smiled and wished me luck, so I must have gotten it right.

A large folder had appeared outside my door that morning containing the formal details my new position, its salary and terms, and other documents and reference numbers that I would need for my visa application. I'd need to make a trip to the government office in Glasgow, which was another hour away. That wasn't _too_ bad, but it was a project for another day.

The first thing I did was eat, because I was truly famished. I hadn't managed to locate the kitchen at Mintah's home. I'd like to be able to say that I began my new life by tucking into a proper Scottish Breakfast, whatever that entailed, but this would be a lie. I headed straight for the first McDonald's I saw and ordered an egg McMuffin, and for the novelty of it, some _porridge_, which turned out to be just oatmeal served with strawberry jam.

I was so busy that day, and in the days that followed, that I hardly had time to feel homesick. I was grateful for that in the evenings, when I had plenty of time. I became a very well-rested woman, forcing myself to go to sleep geriatrically early simply to avoid feeling lonely, lost, and uncertain.

That week I rented a car, got acquainted with driving on the left, scheduled my appointment at the Public Enquiry Office, and did a lot of shopping. Every day I discovered something else I'd forgotten to pack, or had never needed before but was desperate without, like voltage adapters and cold weather boots. I found a _letting agent_ to assist me in my search for a house.

I spent a lot of time at the Splendide facility. It wasn't fully staffed yet, with the exception of the security personnel. They weren't contract workers like we had in Louisiana. These were people whose families had been connected to Mintah for quite some time, and none of them were human. Most were shapeshifters of various types, but with minds so unusual that I couldn't begin to guess. I learned, after asking, that some changed into animals which were otherwise extinct. _And I thought _I_ had secrets to keep._ Eric had been right in his assessment of Mintah; he was a true collector of the unique, the rare, and the antiquated.

They seemed like nice enough people though, as people go.

The lab was large. Unfortunately it was still subterranean, but at least I had my own office. The first work-related tasks I had were to furnish it, and then to begin drafting proposals for lab equipment purchases. This was new to me. In Shreveport, I just asked for something and a few days later Brenda came back to tell me if we'd be getting it or not. I hadn't realized before that each request had to be formally outlined, or that lab equipment was so expensive. Sure, I knew the big flashy machines could cost tens of thousands, but fourteen hundred dollars for a handheld refractometer? It was highway robbery.

I saw snow in real quantity for the first time ever. It was utterly beautiful; the single most enchanting thing I had ever seen, magical or mundane. I felt that way right up until the point where I had to drive in it.

The next week I saw Niall, who took me to lunch and asked me very seriously if my current situation was truly what I wanted for my life. Things weren't perfect, I'd told him, but I could be happy here. He told me to let him know if that changed. He also asked if I was still planning to keep in touch with "the vampire." I didn't really have an answer for him. There'd been no further word from Pam, and not a peep from Eric.

Quite unexpectedly, I received an invitation to the wedding of Gladiola and Vassaguy (eighth son of Vassagerre, sixty-fourth son of Vassago). The ceremony was to take place at the Oak Alley Plantation in Vacherie, Louisiana at nine in the evening on the Ides of March. I could just imagine how that iconic bower of three hundred year old trees would look all lit up with twinkle lights. I knew immediately that I would not be able to attend, and I'm sorry to say that I moped all evening.

I was in the library decorated in the Baroque style because the chairs in there were particularly comfortable, and because I hoped to find a book that might have information about Vassaguy. Instead I got caught up thinking of Eric, wondering if he was invited too. He was a person of note in Louisiana's supe community, so it made sense that he would be.

"A particularly advantageous match for the girl," Mintah observed.

I quickly fortified the mental shields which had fallen lax in my distraction. I had adjusted well to Mintah's method of blocking him (and others) out. Keeping me _in_ was where I continued to struggle.

"Do you know the groom?" I asked.

"I know his grandsire."

"Were you invited as well?"

"Of course. Even if I do not attend, I must now give a gift."

"Just like humans," I noted.

"Yes."

"Are you going to go?" I hazarded.

"I may. Did you wish to request to attend as well?"

I sighed. "Actually, I was thinking it would probably be an ideal time to go and close my house... with the Who's Who being down in Vacherie, I could probably spend a couple of days in Shreveport without attracting attention."

"Have you obtained a residence?"

"Not yet."

I was having some trouble communicating my needs to the rental agent. I explained about my "extreme sensitivity to noise" and consequently the need to find a more isolated house. Rather than accept this as a constraint, the agent was trying to solve the problem by showing me soundproofed apartments and places with elderly neighbors. None of this was helpful at all.

I'd given up looking in Edinburgh proper, which had more than twice the population of Shreveport, and directed the agent to look into places out in the country with, I repeat, _no __near __neighbors_. Sheep were okay though. If I didn't have to worry about a lawn service, that would be a bonus.

"You are welcome to remain here. Apart from the occasional mental slips, which are becoming less frequent, your presence is quite unnoticeable."

"I do appreciate that, but I'm sure you can understand that I too would like to be able to relax my mind at home."

He seemed to accept that I wasn't trying to be rude. His residence was very comfortable (physically at least), and there was no doubt that I felt secure as far as enemies were concerned, but I needed my own space. I felt too uneasy here, and too... under his thumb.

"Very well then. We will travel to America for the wedding, and you will simply stay behind when we land in Shreveport."

"Shreveport's pretty far from Vacharie," I told him. That plantation was just outside of New Orleans.

"I move much faster over land," he reminded me.

Right.

When I told Gran the news the following day, I could tell she was disappointed that I wouldn't be returning for several more weeks. We'd managed to talk quite a bit. I'd found a program on the internet that let me make long distance calls for cheap. There was no wifi at Deamhanbeinn House, but I always took my laptop with me to Splendide. It was all I had to work with until my office desktop finally arrived.

Saturday was my next round of house hunting. Not only did I not find anything, but by the time we returned to the city, it was well after full dark. There was a vampire waiting near my car, the first I'd seen since arriving here. I felt terror rise up as a lump in my throat and I froze. Pam shifted only minutely, her corn silk hair looking almost silver as she moved into the glow of the overhead lamp.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she replied.

It took me a long moment to decide that she wasn't here to harm me, but I was still cautious as I approached.

"You could have called."

"The phones are not secure. Besides, I've had a delightful time _hunting you __down_."

I knew all about Pam and hunting down fairies.

"Where are you staying?" she asked.

"With Mintah."

"Really?" she asked, a wicked smile forming. "Isn't he a little _old_ for you?"

"Could be," I quipped back. "What's the rule again? Divide your age in half and add one thousand?"

She looked stumped for a moment before brushing that off as human nonsense, which it was. I let my guard down.

"It's not like that, at all," I said, rolling me eyes. She was only teasing, but I felt the need to set the record straight. "I'm like his ward or something. I've hardly seen him."

"It's just as well. Let's go somewhere and talk."

She didn't have anywhere in mind, so I took her to the one bar I'd noticed during my exploration which had a neon sign in the window advertising they carried Eisei Fushi. The European countries tended to import more of the synthetic blood from Japan than I was used to seeing. The only production they did over here was of the ritzy Royalty line of blood beverages, and those weren't entirely synthetic.

I'd never been in the place before, but there weren't many other customers. It was too late for lunch, and too early for the night crowd. The human bartender looked amazed when Pam placed her order. The way he continued to gawk at her informed me that despite the advertisement, they didn't get very many vampires in here. That was in the establishment's favor as far as I was concerned.

"So," I said, sipping my coke when it was delivered. (No way was I getting impaired when I still had to drive home on the wrong side of the road in the dark.) "What brings you by?"

"You said if I was ever in Edinburgh to look you up," she leered.

"Funny. Why are you in Edinburgh?"

"You might call it a working vacation. I needed some time away from the bar. It's profitable enough, but the novelty has worn off."

"So, who's dressing up like Evil Willow every night?"

"A girl called _Felicia_."

"Sounds much more vampiric than _Pam_, anyway," I observed.

"She is an imbecile," Pam dismissed. "But very attractive."

"What happened with the takeover?"

Pam explained that it had all gone quite smoothly. The biggest fight had been surrounding Peter Threadgill, who Andre had slain. In fact none of the Arkansas vampires had made it out of Little Rock. Four vampires from Louisiana had died as well, but none of them were from Area 5.

"There were fewer people in the outlying areas than we anticipated," she went on. "Threadgill had drawn most of his assets close. He was smart enough to see his vulnerability, but in the end, they were simply overwhelmed by our numbers."

By the sound of it, they would need to go ahead with that plan to "repopulate."

"How many new Sheriffs is she putting in?"

"None," Pam replied. "And no regent. She plans to use Arkansas as her dowry."

"Didn't she just have her fiancé killed?"

"There are many monarchs who would be pleased to align themselves with Louisiana, and many kings who believe a woman ruling alone is weak target. She has other suitors."

I shook my head. _Vampires._

"I guess it's a good bargaining chip," I reasoned. "She can yield the empty territory, but leave her own kingdom untouched. She can move in a strong ally right next door, to act as a buffer between her and everyone else. Smart."

"She is," Pam agreed.

The waiter brought us another round, before quickly darting away.

My patience broke.

"How's Eric?"

"Eric is well."

"Seriously, Pam? That's all I get?"

"What do you wish to know?"

"How did he do in the takeover? Is he having any problems with the Queen and Andre? Does he..."

"Does he what?"

"Does he miss me?" Did he just go back to screwing fangbangers?

"Eric is unpleasant to be around... another reason why this trip has been so welcome."

"Is he angry with me for leaving? I think he was telling me to go..."

"Yes. As to that, I think he was quite surprised. Both with you, for actually taking flight, and with himself, for advising it."

"Is he in a lot of trouble?"

"Hard to say. Officially, Bill is suspected of desertion, and possibly even of spying for Arkansas. The fact that they didn't simply kill him when you were abducted supports that theory. His maker hasn't turned up to assert her rights to his property, which is the strongest evidence that he still lives. Unofficially of course, everyone knows that you killed him," she finished brightly.

I gasped, "But I didn't!"

"It makes no difference. You know how people like to gossip." She was smirking.

"He's not in trouble then."

"The Queen suspects he is keeping things from her. It's why she sent Bill in the first place. This entire _episode_ has done nothing to diminish that concern, even if he did use the opportunity to prove his worth to his best advantage. You should have seen him on the night of the takeover. Magnificent."

"I'm glad I didn't." My eyes were wide open to that aspect of Eric, but I would never delight in seeing the violence up close. "So, can I call him?"

"Why? Did you want to have phone sex?"

"What? No. Jesus Pam, I just want to talk to him for myself."

"He's still being closely watched," she finally said. It was the fact that she said it kindly that was so disheartening, like she was making an excuse. She wasn't the 'spare your feelings' sort. She was hiding something.

"Does he not want to talk to me?"

"Don't be an idiot, Sookie." That was more her usual, if not comforting in the least. "If you insist, I'll carry a message back for you."

She'd finished her second bottle, leaving a lurid bloody kiss on her cocktail napkin as she blotted her lips.

"Come on. Let's go see what there is to do for fun around here. These seventeen hour nights are fabulous."

I wasn't up for it that evening, but I did see Pam three more times in the week before she left. She did not succeed in getting me to visit any human dance clubs, and we agreed that going to the supe bar she had found was not a good idea. That's where she ended up celebrating Dracula Night. There was nothing like Fangtasia here, she informed me.

We did spend an evening in her hotel room, making good on the promise to paint each other's fingernails and watch a silly movie. Pam thought everything that humans did was funny, so she laughed even at the parts which weren't intended to be humorous. I left when Pam's _night cap_ arrived; a very beautiful and exotic-looking woman who wasn't thinking in English, and who I judged to be a recent immigrant.

In my efforts to get acquainted with the local politics of my adopted home, I had been reading the newspaper every day. That morning, there had been an article about how the government was gently nudging newer immigrants toward Scotland by implementing more lenient residency requirements here than in other parts of the Kingdom. The subtext was that the more populous England was getting a weensy bit too _diverse_ for some people's liking.

I wanted to talk to this woman about her experiences with the Immigration Service, but considering the way she and Pam were eying each other, I decided this wasn't the time and bid my hasty good nights.

Pam had referred to this as a "working vacation," but I believed her when she said that hunting me down had only been a leisure activity. Maybe it was naïve, but I liked to think that whatever her business was, it didn't necessarily have to be accomplished here in this city. She'd simply chosen Edinburgh because she wanted to visit me.

I didn't demand the details because I genuinely didn't want to know. I hadn't just escaped from vampire intrigue only to throw myself directly back in, which is precisely where being too inquisitive would lead me.

Our last meeting was a bit sad for me, and more than a little awkward.

I took Pam literally about carrying a message for Eric and wrote another letter. It was very guarded, because though I didn't doubt she would deliver it, I assumed she would also read it. It had taken me a long time and several drafts to get it right.

The reality was that our relationship as it had been, was over.

We were lovers torn apart by adversity and self-preservation, separated by an ocean of doubt, and by an actual ocean as well.

If I were the heroine in one of my romance novels, I would now proceed to pine for Eric indefinitely, never knowing if he were doing the same. I would always hope, and never move on. Eventually, when I grew old, I would tell our story to the beautiful-but-shy neighbor girl, whose mother would make her come visit me to check that I wasn't dead and being eaten by my cat. We would become friends, and through me she would learn a lesson about taking risks in life and in love.

In the epilogue, Eric would turn up at my grave, all wistful and melancholy.

And then he'd have sex with that neighbor girl.

I liked to believe I was too practical a woman to go down like that. As intense and passionate as our affair had been, I wasn't prepared to just hang up my hat and call it a day. Eric had shown me what I could have as far as sex and romance were concerned. These were definitely things I wanted to keep in my life.

At least these were things I wanted to have in my life again. At some point. After a while. When I'd stopped feeling glum and unfortunate and angry about the sheer unfairness of life in general.

What I hoped for; what I wrote in the letter, was that we would remain on good terms. When it was safe to do so, I hoped he would contact me, simply because I enjoyed talking to him and missed it. I hinted that perhaps we could even see each other when I had occasion to visit Louisiana. I apologized for any trouble he was caused because of me, and I thanked him from the bottom of my heart for keeping my secrets, keeping me safe, and for letting me go when he was no longer able to do so.

I said more or less the same thing to Pam at our parting, though without the same implication of a standing booty call whenever we happen to be in the same country.

Pam thought my plan to arrive in the Louisiana in the midst of the wedding guests was a good one, though she was reluctant to agree that we'd see each other then. I left her with Mr. Cataliades's private number so that she could get a message to me in case of an emergency, and then departed before she sealed herself into a travel coffin that looked suspiciously similar to the ones I'd seen in Eric's house.

Once she left it was back to work.

The wedding had resulted in an influx of business for Splendide, and I had to wonder if my employer had somehow known about the event in advance of the Shreveport embargo. We were still getting the business – there simply weren't many alternatives when it came to supernatural gift buying – but it was more to everyone's inconvenience as representatives had to be sent to other locations to browse our catalog.

Because it's not like they were registered at Dillard's. The traditional wedding gifts were jewels and precious metals, and it was a bonus if such things possessed magical properties. Gladiola would be adorned with as much splendor as she could physically carry to the altar. That was the normal way of presenting the dowry. Due to her part humanity, I figured Gladiola would have a lot to prove in this respect.

I sent the bride her much-belated Christmas present, as well as another gold chain strung with a Tibetan amulet to imbue strength. This was based on the assumption that she would need any help she could get to haul all that bling down the aisle. To the couple, I sent a relatively modest cushion cut prehnite. The pale green gem had a curiously luminous quality, and being only semi-transluscent, the facets served to show off the depth and complexity of the stone. It symbolized eternal love, and since rubies and diamonds of a size that would be deemed acceptable were entirely out of my price range, I hoped that it would be considered a thoughtful gift.

Mintah was probably giving them gold bullion or something.

I found a house, finally. It was being offered as a holiday rental, but I was overjoyed to discover that this was only because the people who owned it had no luck finding someone to take it on year round. It was too big for me, and it was furnished, but they agreed to remove all the furniture that I didn't need. I figured the extra space would come in handy when I could convince my family to come and stay.

It was an old stone farmhouse with surprisingly high ceilings on the ground floor. The backyard, if you could call it that, was a fallow field surrounded by a stand of trees. One side led away to someone else's property, but the other side was forest – a six hundred acre preserve that happened to be managed by the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. Though six hundred acres sounded large to me, I found that amounted to slightly less than one square mile. In any case, that just made it feel perfect. It reminded me a lot of Gran's house.

I began the process of selecting lab assistants, which was odd. I have no idea how word got out about the positions. I certainly hadn't posted an ad, but one of Mintah's clerks had carried down a pile of folders containing resumes, academic records, pedigrees, and pictures of a dozen candidates that I needed to whittle down to two. Half of them were similar to me; the mostly-human relatives of those with strong ties to the supernatural community. The other half were pure supe; demons and shifters, and one vampire.

Only one of the candidates had a connection to the fae; but unfortunately for him, that connection was through one of the elves associated with the Water Clan, and that just wasn't happening. I wanted to bump the vampire right off the list as well, but the problem was that he seemed like a great candidate. He was four hundred years old, and currently worked unprofitably as an antiquarian bookseller. He spoke ten languages, and could read and write in ten more. These were not skills I had, and he could go a long way toward filling in the gaps in both my knowledge and research capabilities. Obviously he could only work at night, which meant in the summer months I wouldn't see him much.

After conferring with security, I scheduled an interview. We'd see how it went.

I had hoped to have more things settled by the time we left for Louisiana, but it just didn't work out. I was counting on that old phrase "it's always darkest before the dawn," being true, because I seemed to have made just enough progress in Scotland to be frustrated as hell.

I was still waiting for these people to get their aunt's old furniture out of my house, so I was still staying at Deamhanbeinn. Mintah had felt the need to correct my mental posture on two additional occasions, and it was no less painfully invasive each time it happened. I was truly grateful to him, but it was definitely time for me to go. Not to mention the fact that I was staying in a room that looked like someone had ate up the garden and been sick on the lilac and heliotropes. I hadn't seen that much purple since the third grade.

I still hadn't heard about my visa. I knew it would take time, but I couldn't help worrying. I should have been an immigration slam dunk; I was a skilled worker, I had sponsorship from the company I worked for. I had a good salary, spoke English. I had no criminal record. So what was taking so long?

Without a proper address and a residence visa, I couldn't open a bank account over here.

Without a bank account, I couldn't see about financing a car, so I had to keep this expensive week to week rental, guzzling up _petrol_ at _eighty pence_per liter! It worked out to about three times what we paid for gas back home.

Suffice to say that it was with tremendous relief that I sprinted across the parking lot of the Shreveport Airport into the arms of my cousin and grandmother. Hadley looked pinker and healthier than she had at Christmas, and I told her so.

"Not me, I'm getting fat from all that shit I eat at the bar," she complained, and then looked me over in turn. "You look good though."

Gran gave her a playful swat on account of her cursing and then pulled me into another hug, "You look skinny, Sookie. Are you eating enough?"

I hadn't been really, though not by choice. A lot of the things I was used to eating were no longer available to me, and I had lost a few pounds. I laughed it off, hugging each of them again. It felt like much longer since I'd seen them than it really had been. So much had happened.

We chatted all the way to my car, packing the trunk with my mostly-empty suitcases. Hadley asked if I wanted to drive, but I shook her off. I had the title in my purse ready to sign over to her name. It would be an expensive hassle to have the car shipped overseas, and I was going to need something with all-wheel drive to cope with the bad weather anyway. Plus the steering wheel would be on the wrong side.

Gran brought a lunch of salad and sandwiches for us to enjoy at the house. Jason had been spending some of his weekends here, which I couldn't begrudge him. His bachelor lifestyle had been severely cramped by the additions of his grandmother and female cousin to his household. Rather than feeling desolate and vacant, the house felt the same as it ever had, with the additions of some fast food debris around the kitchen.

The living room was full of the packing materials which had been delivered by the moving company. They were going to take care of most of it, as well as the shipping. I just didn't have the time or the stamina to do it all. My shoulders were doing a lot better, but they still ached sometimes. They probably always would.

The plan was for me to take care of the particularly fragile things, and then to focus on cleaning. It's not that I was a slob or anything, but I didn't want to forfeit my deposit because Mrs. Fuller had to hire people to come in and do what I failed to.

We started in the kitchen after lunch, and Gran and Hadley decided they would take all the non-perishable foods to the church, or back home with them. I caught a whiff of something musty and realized to my dismay that I'd left a load of wet laundry in the washer the morning I'd left. I was forced to discard the contents, and run the machine through with hot water and bleach to clean away the mildew.

There was a lot of garbage, but Gran assured me that Jason would be _happy_ to bring his truck tomorrow to drive it all out to the dump. I ended up giving them some things I wouldn't be taking with me; clothes that would fit Hadley, some of my electronics that wouldn't work reliably with the voltage adapters. At points in the afternoon I felt alternately despondent and overwhelmed by what I was leaving behind.

Gran found me in the front bathroom staring at a bottle of the hand soap I preferred. I had looked for it in Edinburgh, but failed to find it.

"What's wrong honey?"

"They don't have this there," I said, showing it to her.

"They don't?" she asked kindly. "What do they use?"

"Carex and Imperial Leather or something. They don't even call it hand soap. It's hand _wash_," I frowned. My face went hot. I felt embarrassed to be upset by this.

"Are they any good?" she asked.

"No," I said stubbornly, swallowing. "They use Palmolive too."

"Like for dishes?"

"For dishes they use Fairy. Fairy! Like some fairy is ever going to do the dishes!" It was an agitated whisper, because Hadley was in the house, and then I was crying in earnest.

Gran led me over to the edge of the tub and sat me down, hugging and cooing as she kissed my brow and stroked my hair. I felt twelve years old, coming home in tears after something I'd heard in someone's mind set me off; inconsolable because the world just didn't work like I thought it should. Just like then, Gran stayed by and let me cry. Sometimes there's really nothing else for it.

Hadley came in and hovered by the door, feeling uncomfortable because I was a mess and there was nothing to do about it.

"You've got to give us a list," she finally said. "Of all the stuff that they don't have there, and we can send it to you. And you can send us stuff that we don't have... like, to try out."

Catching on, Gran agreed, "Oh, that would be nice. I bet there are lots of nice things we've never even known about."

And in that way, my family succeeded in coaxing me out of my misery. Hadley imagined the wonderful world of international care packages that would soon be coming her way, and Gran kept a running list of all the shopping we would need to do tomorrow.

I was so lucky to have them.

They did their best to keep me optimistic about my new circumstances while the afternoon wore on, but as the sun dropped lower in the sky, I began to feel nervous again.

Hadley needed to return to Bon Temps for the evening shift at the bar, and I didn't hesitate to encourage Gran to go with her. She'd be back tomorrow with Jason, but I didn't want any of them here after full dark. That Jason had stayed here alone without incident was encouraging news, but I wasn't taking any more risks than necessary.

Of course, I was also hoping that I'd have another visitor, whose company I didn't want to share with my family for completely non-perilous reasons.

After they'd gone, I cleaned distractedly with my mind wide open. He made me wait until almost two in the morning, not turning up until Fangtasia had closed for the night.

Eric had me in his arms before I could even push the door closed, and I managed to have his shirt halfway off before he could even say hello – not that he was trying to do much talking at that point.

I scrabbled at his buttons while he buried his head in my neck, licking, sucking, and nipping at me, while his hand on my bottom supported my weight and the other roamed across my back and my front, through my hair and over my breasts. He seemed to have missed those in particular, as he lowered me to my feet and stripped me of my shirt. He knelt before me giving my chest his full attention and it wasn't long before my hips were rocking against him as I searched for more delicious contact. I felt the sting of his bite at my nipple and cried out. He had to hold on to keep me from falling as I lost myself.

A moment later my back was on the floor, right there in the hallway. I scrambled out of my jeans as he unlaced the leather pants he was wearing. His hair was loose and falling forward over his shoulders and his crystal blue eyes would have been frightening if I wasn't confident that it was pure lust I was seeing in his gaze. His fangs were down and still red with my blood. I reached up and brought his mouth to mine and he groaned with equal parts want and satisfaction as I kissed him.

I felt myself slide backwards as he entered me, so powerful was that first thrust. I had to cling to him to stay as close as I wanted to be, which still didn't seem close enough. He came up on his knees again, sitting back on his heels and my feet found the floor and we moved together. He pushed up while I bounced down. He lifted me while I pressed my chest against his. I had one arm around his shoulder, with the other clenched in his hair, holding him to my neck. I panted in time with our movements, while he gasped for air that was only necessary so he could vocalize his pleasure.

When I came again it was so intense that I bit down on his shoulder, not drawing blood, but sparking his own climax which reverberated through my whole body as he let out a deep and desperate roar.

I could have fallen back then, boneless and happily sated, but instead he lowered me to the ground, cradling me with his whole body as his arms and legs wrapped around mine. He lapped at the little wounds he left, ensuring they would heal, and all the while his hair tickled my oversensitive skin in the most delightful way.

"Miss me?" I murmured.

"You missed me too," he replied, rubbing himself against me in a manner which reminded me of just one of the many ways in which Eric's prowess exceeded that of mere mortal men.

"Yes I did," I agreed. "Very much. How long can you stay?"

"Till dawn."

"Good," I said dreamily, squirming around to face him. I leaned up to kiss his jaw and ran my hand across his chest.

"Lover, we have much to talk about."

"Mmm," I agreed, and feeling particularly saucy, I pinched his nipple. "After."

He moaned again, and called me insatiable in a fond sort of way, before giving me exactly what we both wanted. It was slower the second time, almost languorous, as Eric and I took the time to greet all the parts of each other's bodies that we'd missed in the first round.

After we'd showered, we ended up in the kitchen dressed only in our towels. While Eric was pretty well fed at this point, I was starving. It was a good thing there was leftover chicken salad.

"So," I braced. "What do you have to tell me?"

"The first is that I will not see you again before you return to Scotland," he answered. "I am expected in Vacherie tomorrow night to join the Queen's party at your cousin's wedding."

I nodded. I'd kind of figured that he would have to go. I was grateful he'd stayed so we could have this little time together.

"It's the last of my duties to her."

"What do you mean?"

"She has agreed to release me from her service."

The sound that escaped me was a breathy little, "Whu?"

I couldn't settle on a question. What would he do? Where would he go? When? How? My eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was grinning like the cat who got the cream.

"What happens now?" I finally managed.

"I have been hearing very much about these seventeen hour nights."

"It's already down to fourteen," I answered without thinking. "In the summer it'll be only eight."

The prospect of extended sunshine in the warmer months was about the only thing making the miserably dreary winter in Scotland bearable.

"Perhaps I should reconsider?" he asked, and though he was still smiling, there was something behind it. Uncertainty maybe.

"No," I breathed out. "Don't reconsider."

I kissed him then, and he pulled me down into his lap. I lost my towel at some point, but I couldn't bring myself to care. His arms were cold, but it didn't even phase me. I felt stupidly happy.

"Tell me everything." I demanded.


	40. Flock Together

In the last chapter:

Sookie's first weeks in Scotland were very busy, and Mintah proves to be an unaccommodating housemate. Though Sookie doesn't see him often, the constraints he has (forcibly) imposed on her telepathy are strict and difficult for her to maintain. She's eager to move into the house she found to rent.

Pam arrived in Edinburgh, but was deliberately vague about her other business in the city, as well as the details of what's going on back in Louisiana. Afraid of falling right back into vampire intrigue, Sookie doesn't press for information.

Gladiola's wedding provides the opportunity to return to Shreveport. With the supernatural bigwigs busy in another part of the state, Sookie can spend a couple of days closing out her old house.

Gran and Hadley provided some much needed comfort as the enormity of her life changes caught up with Sookie. Still concerned with their safety, she sent her family away before dark, but the only nighttime caller was a very welcome Eric.

* * *

Chapter 40 – Flock Together

"I even defended Andre from certain death, just before he killed the king."

"Why'd you do that?" I asked lazily.

We'd made it to my bed, which was made up with only sheets and a single blanket since everything else had been packed away. It was still cozy.

To my surprise, I didn't mind listening to Eric talk about the fighting during the takeover. It reminded me a little of the way Jason used to talk about his football games. I knew that was twisted – and not just in a limb-wrenching dismemberment kind of way – but Eric had the same pride in the victory and his own "play-making" that my brother used to. It helped that he glossed over the gorier details.

"He was pinned between two guards, and I had the opportunity while they were distracted," Eric began, but he hadn't understood my question.

"No, I mean why intervene there? Isn't Andre a threat?" He had certainly seemed threatening during our brief meeting.

"He is the Queen's second. I am sworn to him as much as I am sworn to her."

"Of course," I said quickly. "But things happen in the heat of battle, and you couldn't be blamed. I figured... I had the impression that there was no love lost between you, considering how he acted at your house. I thought you'd be glad if he..." I trailed off when I saw the look on his face. I'd offended him.

"There is no love between Andre and I, that is true," he finally said, and I felt at liberty to breathe again. "But, I am still sworn to defend the Queen's interests, and I do not make a promise lightly, as you know."

I nodded. From experience I knew Eric's promises actually came with a heavy price. No. _No._ I stopped that train of thought right in its tracks. That wasn't fair. Eric was opportunistic, but he wasn't dishonorable. I of all people could attest to that.

"I do know that," I said quietly.

"Yes," he agreed levelly. We were on the exact same page. "In any case, Andre is vital to the Queen's strength. He is a good fighter, and a good administrator. It was important that the takeover went off without a hitch; an unequivocal gain."

"You wanted to leave on good terms," I concluded. I was fairly certain that Eric's decision to leave Louisiana had not been the product of just the last couple of weeks. He had to have been considering moving on for much longer; maybe even before he and I had gotten to know each other. That was food for thought.

"I wanted to leave, _period_," Eric clarified. "Convincing the Queen to release me from her service was contingent upon her maintaining a position of unrivaled power and authority here. Had she lost other valuable assets in the fight, she would not have considered letting me go."

"It's good she didn't, then," I offered.

"It's very good. Her losses in that fight were few. We came out even better than expected. Even with my departure, she is well ahead. She has made her show of strength, and for some time now anyone who thinks of challenging her will think again."

"Good for her."

"Good for everyone."

I wondered fleetingly if any of Reagan's advisers had been vampires. Their whole way of life seemed to work on the trickle-down principle.

"You're really coming to Scotland?" I asked.

"Yes, next week. I am set to meet with the King next Friday evening."

"Have you met him before?"

"I have not, though we have spoken on the phone. Pam met him when she was there. Did she not mention it? She spent several nights with him."

"She didn't mention much," I admitted, "and I didn't want to pry into her business."

He simply nodded, leaving me to assume that this had been his intention.

"So what will you do with yourself now?"

"Pam says there is nothing like Fangtasia over there, but I am not sure she will be as eager to help with that project for a second time. I believe she intends to remain in King Walter's court indefinitely."

"Is that in Edinburgh?"

"In Glasgow. His residence is just outside the city."

"That's not too far. Where will you be?" I asked.

"I'll start in Glasgow as well, at least for a few months. When we are better acquainted with the vampires there, and when I have leave to do so, I will strike out on my own, but it's likely to be in the same general area. There are five fiefdoms, and four of them are south of the Firth of Tay."

My geographic knowledge wasn't stellar as yet, but I knew enough to realize he was saying that the vast majority of the vampire population was centered in the southern part of the country, which made sense as that's where the majority of the human population resides.

"Where's the other, Aberdeen?" It was a larger city further up the coast, only a little smaller than Shreveport.

"No, not that far north. There are a couple of vampires who live up there, but their existence is very isolated. It is dangerous to travel in the warmer months, because the nights are so short. Vampires can get stranded, so it is just not worth the risk, and of course there is no population in the west at all."

He gave me a pointed look, and I knew at once what he meant. Vampires were personae non gratae in the Highlands, because that was fairy territory. It wasn't like here, where fairies are very few and far between. They still feel free to roam that rural land, and though their population continues to dwindle, they still have their footholds. Thankfully these didn't include the towns or cities. Too much iron.

I took a little bit of pleasure in the fact that, different as my adoptive country was, I would always be a proud Southerner.

"So, what you're saying is that no matter where you settle, you won't be too far?"

"No," he agreed, and leaned in to kiss my temple, "not too far."

After that, we talked about the various hassles of international relocation. I told him about the house I'd found, and he was eager to see it. It had an old root cellar, and he was enthusiastic about the prospect of kitting it out as a daytime resting place. The chances of him sleeping over would increase tenfold if he had somewhere to stay that was actually comfortable.

Now that the vamps were out of the coffin, he was going to have to deal with the same hassle of acquiring a visa if he wanted to do business. We were able to commiserate on that quite a bit, and I told him what I'd learned so far. Vampires were treated just like everyone else, from a bureaucratic stance. The only exceptions pertained to the documentation requirements. Obviously Eric could not be expected to submit a copy of his birth certificate. I told him he could probably get in with the status of an Entrepreneur, if he were willing to prove he had the capital to invest.

"That's good," he agreed. "Then I would not have to marry Pam."

"Why would you marry Pam?"

"She's a citizen," he shrugged. "She was able to find the records of both her birth and death in the public archives. It's the same as here. Since the revelation there are procedures in place for vampires to reclaim their extant legal status."

"Isn't that weird for her? To be... I don't know... herself again, at least officially?"

"It's a means to an end only. She has no intention of connecting with the remnants of her human life. There is no one alive now who would even remember her."

I felt my brow furrow.

"Do not be sad for Pam, lover. This is only a matter of expedience. She is indifferent, I assure you."

"If you say so."

"I do say so, and I am sure she will say so, if you ask her." He leaned over to check the time on my alarm clock then. He had to get home before dawn and it was well beyond time for me to be asleep. Gran and Jason would be here bright and early, and I was just thankful I'd insisted on not packing the coffee pot the day before. I would surely need to make use of it.

"You have to go," I said, before he could.

"Yes. I must be packed and ready so that my transport can pick me up this afternoon."

"Isn't that disconcerting?" I really had no idea how vampires, who guarded their lives so carefully, could tolerate daytime transport. It was a cavernous gap in their species-wide compulsion to always be in control of a situation.

"It's a calculated risk," he said, before laying a final kiss on me and beginning to extricate his limbs from mine. "A travel coffin is quite durable, and locks from the inside. Is it possible to break one open? Yes. Is it likely to happen before I became conscious enough to realize the danger? No. Is any vampire willing to risk subverting a convenience that is so beneficial to all? No."

"What about humans?"

"Woe be to the humans that try," he grinned wickedly, but I knew it was a hollow kind of bravado. Retribution would be assured, but damage was definitely possible.

"You are finding too many things to worry about," he said, his voice softening.

"Tonight has been a great distraction," I assured him, "but I _am_ worried, about all kinds of things. I think I'll be worried until everything is settled for good."

"So glad I could provide you with a distraction then," he said playfully.

"You know what I mean. When will I see you again? Are the phones still off limits? What's the deal with that anyway? You can call King Walter, but not me?"

I start to babble a little when I'm overtired.

"You will see me next week, if you wish. I will send you a message when I have a new phone. This one has been tampered with. There is a recording device."

"Why are you still using it then?"

"Because I have nothing to hide."

"Is the Queen still interested in me?"

"Neither she nor Andre have said any more about it. It is irrelevant at this point, because you are outside of her grasp."

"Do they think anything about you and Pam following to Scotland?"

"I'm sure they think a lot of things. Everything from the fact that I am following my taste for fairy blood to its source, to the fact that I am in league with your employer... but I have served the Queen stalwartly. She has no cause to do anything but wish me well, and if she truly believes I am keeping pertinent information from her, then it is best for all that we part ways."

I let out a deep sigh of relief. That precarious caution was completely absent from his voice.

"And the Bill thing?" I asked.

"There have been some interesting developments." The subject seemed to perk him up a bit as he moved around lightning quick to collect his clothing, which I could have sworn had not been left at arm's reach earlier.

"Oh?"

"It seems that the suggestion of him being a spy was not too far off. When we searched his home, we found a huge cache of information about vampires he has been in contact with; personal details about vampires all over the country, their images, their histories."

"Really?"

"Yes, and the Queen is being even more tight-lipped than usual about it. He is suspected of being involved in some kind of extensive secret network... at this point, if he were ever to be found, he would have a lot of questions to answer before they got to the subject of you."

Reluctantly I let Eric leave, following to lock up behind him with assurances that we would see each other soon, and a final series of parting kisses. I got a whopping two and a half hours of sleep myself before my brother's banging on my bedroom door demanded my attention.

"Ugh," I sounded, groping around for the lone pillow in the hopes of covering my head. "Go away, Jason."

"Sure sis. I got better things to do than cart your junk to the dump and carry boxes all day."

I sighed, pulled myself out of bed, and trudged to the kitchen where Gran already had the coffee made and the powdered creamer waiting out for me. The stuff was nobody's first choice, but it worked in a pinch. Obviously I didn't have any fresh milk in the house.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Gran greeted, and a mumbled the polite response. "Late night?" I saw her lip twitch.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I got a lot done, and then Eric came by for a little while."

She let out a little huff, but I could see her grin as she continued to make toast out of the loaf of wheat bread she had brought. There was a jar of her homemade strawberry preserves set out on the table, marking the day as a special occasion.

"He's coming to Scotland," I told her quietly. "Him, and Pam, his child, um, vampire child. My friend. They're moving there too."

That got her attention. She hastily gathered up the slices and joined me at the table.

"Sookie, he's moving in with you?" She was concerned, and bless her heart, at the top of her mind was the fear that I was somehow being taken advantage of.

"Oh, no. No," I corrected. "He's going to be living in a different city, but it's less than an hour away. We'll still be able to see each other."

"It seems pretty sudden. Did you know he was going to move there? Is that why you decided to go?"

"I didn't know. He didn't tell me about his plans until last night. I think he wanted to be sure everything was definite."

Gran looked skeptical. "Is he going to work for Splendide too?"

"I don't think he gets along with my boss very well," I said, understating. "He mentioned wanting to start his own business after he gets the measure of things over there."

"Well, that's really something," she said, because it was polite to speak a response, even though she wasn't certain what that response should be. There were a lot more questions percolating in her head, but she couldn't seem to settle on any of them.

"It is something," I agreed, and leaned over to squeeze her hand, so she'd take my meaning. "It's a lot. I'll have some friends over there, and I'll try to meet some new ones, too."

I was assuring both her and myself. I did need to make an effort to start a life there; get to know my coworkers, find a church, meet my neighbors, even though the closest one was quite a hike down the road. I needed to make it "home," and quite abruptly, I made a promise to myself that I would do exactly that.

Gran patted my hand again and then extracted herself so she could serve up the food before it went completely room-temperature.

"Sook, you know you left your dirty drawers on the floor in the hallway?" Jason yelled, as he came in the room, oblivious to the fact that he no longer needed to shout. Gran dropped her toast jam-side down on her plate.

"Thank you Jason," I snapped, in a falsely bright voice. "I'll grab them after breakfast. Come and eat."

"I was thinking the Fourth of July," Gran said, a heartily welcome non sequitor.

"For what?" my brother asked.

"To go and visit Sookie. Easter is too soon, and Memorial Day is a big to-do with the Garden Club.

"Fourth of July would be great," I agreed quickly. "Obviously it's not the same kind of holiday over there, but the time of year should be good."

"I bet they piss and moan all day cause they lost," Jason added, but it was Gran who tutted first.

"It's just like any other day to them, Jason," she informed him.

"Well, you'll both miss the barbeques then. Maybe Hadley and I'll have some people over to my house."

"You've got plenty of time to plan. Do you need to get your passport?" I asked Gran.

"It's on its way. Hadley and I went down to the Post Office a few weeks back and applied, but I don't think she'll have enough time at the bar to put in for a long vacation so soon, so maybe she'll come next trip."

"Yeah, I figure I'll come over some time as well," Jason added.

"I'd be glad to have you," I smiled.

I managed to get enough coffee in my system to power me through the morning as we chatted idly about the prospect of Gran's summer visit. She wanted to press me about being back for either Christmas or Thanksgiving, but accepted the fact that it was too early to put those plans in stone. Jason left for the dump and Gran and I started with the stickers so the moving men could do their work without as much direct instruction.

By the time evening rolled around, the house was just about empty, and in the end I went back to Bon Temps to spend the night on Jason's couch. I was so tired by that point, I could probably have slept comfortably in the bathtub. We took two cars to church in the morning, and then it was back to Shreveport. Gran had decided that she was up to the task of driving herself home on a Sunday afternoon, so I bid my fond adieus to my cousin and brother, promising again to send lots of foreign treats in exchange for a steady supply of Softsoap and Little Debbies.

There was only my personal luggage to collect, and Gran and I reckoned we could manage it fine alone, but as it happened, we weren't.

Mr. Cataliades was filling up the front porch of the little house in Shreveport when we pulled into the driveway for the very last time, and Gran was pretty annoyed about it. There was really no ignoring her thoughts on the subject, and we sat in the car for a minute or two while she steeled her magnolia.

Mr. C was never a welcome visitor with Gran. Though she understood his place in my life, Mr. Cataliades had been the best friend of my real grandfather, and she could not help but associate him with Fintan. Cheating on Mitchell Stackhouse was the great shame of Gran's life, but the result – their children – had been the greatest joy. Their deaths, of course, had caused her greatest pain.

All of that amounted to a hell of a lot to stare in the face, and now there was another component.

Gran believed it was damned nervy of Desmond Cataliades to intrude on her last day with me. After all, he was part of the world to which she was about to lose me.

That tore at my heart almost literally, and I pressed a hand to my chest as it tightened. With the other I seized Gran's hand again, unwilling for now to keep up the pretense that I didn't know what she was thinking. To my great surprise she pulled away and stepped out of the car, striding determinedly over to the demon, and I hurried to catch up.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cataliades," I heard her say.

"Mrs. Stackhouse, a pleasure. I was so sorry to hear of your illness, but may I say that you're looking well?"

"I'm feeling well, thank you. I understand congratulations are in order for your niece."

"Yes, she was a beautiful bride. The couple departed this morning for the honeymoon."

It was hard to picture Gladiola in a breezy sundress, strolling around a Sandals resort with some lesser Prince of Hell. I saw the look of amusement pass across the part-demon's face as I tried.

"They'll be returning to his home country to visit with family before they settle. Many of the groom's relatives could not make it to the ceremony."

My grandmother nodded politely, fully committed to her show of courtesy. I couldn't leave her out in the cold, literal or proverbial. Gently I moved between them, unlocking the front door.

"Won't you come inside?" I asked. "I'm afraid I've little to offer in the way of hospitality, but we can at least come off the porch."

"Thank you, my dear. I assure you, I won't take up much of your time. I have a few legal documents that require your attention."

All three of us moved to the kitchen, and Gran excused herself to go and putter around the empty house to be certain I hadn't left any corners un-swept nor window sills un-dusted.

"She is a remarkable woman," Mr. Cataliades said in a hushed voice, and I knew for sure that he was just as aware as I was how deeply uncomfortable his presence made her, not that she showed it.

"She is," I agreed. "What have you got for me?"

It turned out we needed to inform the government that I'd be living and working abroad, for tax purposes. I would still be double taxed, but there were ways to mitigate the burden on both sides. I signed where I needed to sign, and then accepted a referral for a solicitor in Edinburgh.

"She's a cousin," he informed me. "Though we have never met in person. She's very good at her work, from what I understand. I believe she has handled some business for your great grandfather in the past."

"I'm sure she's a good lawyer," I agreed. "Though not as good as you, naturally."

"Naturally," he smiled, and then did something he had rarely done and leaned in to embrace me, and I returned his hug with vigor.

"I wish you much happiness and prosperity in your new endeavor. Please do keep in touch. I enjoy our talks."

Gran, who hadn't exactly been eavesdropping, but hadn't exactly _not_ been, made a perfectly timed reappearance in the kitchen just as Mr. Cataliades was ready to leave. He greeted her with a deep and respectful nod and the two exchanged more cool courtesies.

"Give Diantha my love," I said, as he made it to the door. "Tell her I'll call her soon."

"She'll be glad to hear from you as well. I fear she has been quite melancholy of late."

"She'll miss her sister now she's married," I nodded.

"And you as well," he agreed, and then he was gone, moving quickly down the lawn in his way.

"He's very agile for such a large man," Gran commented, reading my thoughts for once. I shut the door.

When there was nothing left to do but load the luggage and lock up, I did so. We drove to the post office and dropped off the padded envelope containing my two sets of keys to be sent to Mrs. Fuller. I'd put my change of address form in yesterday, deciding to have any odd bits of mail forwarded to Gran's house. I'd already given all the companies I had business with my work address in Scotland for future correspondence.

We had a late lunch or an early dinner at the Cracker Barrel. I had spicy fried catfish with green beans and mac and cheese, and I looked the other way as Gran ordered a pork chop. We toasted with tea sweetened by Splenda and talked about her garden, my brother, Everlee Mason's grandson and his trouble at work, the latest weird story to come out of Hot Shot, and the fact that she'd become aware that _someone_ had arranged for new windows to be installed at her house while the repairs were being done. She was downright _irritated_ at all the sewing she'd have to do. Her fancy new windows would need fancy new curtains.

I just beamed at her and then ordered some blackberry cobbler when our waitress came by.

There was no tearful goodbye at the airport, just a tight hug and a promise that I'd call her when I got in, no matter what time that happened to be. Mintah had not yet arrived, so I stayed out and chatted with our pilot after my luggage had been stowed, and learned that his name was Brady, and that his second nature was that of a leopard seal, which I immediately jumped on.

"Does that make you a Selkie?" I asked, and he startled me with his harsh laughter.

"No, not at all, and don't make that mistake in front of one of them! They're as proud as the Weres."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a bit like the difference between a wolf and a coyote, right? Different animals. Selkies are grey seals, exclusively. They're not like Weres in terms of ferocity. It's more wiliness with them, but it's the same sense of _superiority_." He emphasized the word letting me know what he thought of it, and though I had no particular opinion on the matter, I smiled as if I agreed with him. It was always interesting to learn new things.

We weren't long before taking off once Mintah arrived, and he informed me that the wedding had been mildly diverting, with acceptable levels of pomp. The bride was comely, if a bit young, and her groom was thoroughly enamored.

"Your vampire was in attendance," he remarked.

"Yes, he said he would be. Apparently he will be moving to Scotland as well, along with his child, Pam. You met her at my house, I think," though I couldn't remember if they had actually spoken.

"The vampire population of Scotland is just burgeoning."

"I don't know about that, but it'll be up by two this week."

"A fairly dramatic increase. I understand you have an interview with a vampire next week, as well."

I had no reason to assume he was making an Anne Rice reference, so I simply nodded. "I'm a little leery. He has skills we can use, but... vampire."

"Will you be interviewing the elf as well?"

"No."

"What will your vampire do in Scotland?"

"I'm not sure he knows yet. He'll be with their King for a while I guess."

"That doesn't sound very ambitious."

"He'll need to pay his dues I figure. Bottom rung, and all that."

"A curious decision, to leave a respected position."

"That's funny coming from you."

"Your meaning?"

"It's just that I figure his reasons are the same as yours, in essentials if not specifics. It's just too volatile in America. Too much happens that is beyond anyone's control. Scotland is more isolated. More stable. It's a better place to just _live_."

The conversation fell away for a while, and I was left alone with my thoughts. I hoped I was right, that where I was headed was a place I could resume a nice, stable life that belonged almost entirely to me.

I returned to Deamhanbeinn with a far lighter heart than I had left it. Mintah vanished at the airport, leaving my luggage and me to ride home with an eagle named Nyek. We didn't talk much, but I was getting used that. It was just their way.

It wasn't until two weeks later that I saw Eric, though I did hear from him a couple of nights after he arrived in the country. During that time I moved into my house, and only then did I discover that it came with a resident stray cat. The fat old tom was destined to remain an outdoors animal, but he let me get close enough to pet him, and the food I set out by the back door was routinely consumed.

I'd been wary of the animal at first, but when Mr. Hob came out to help me set up the wards he took a thorough look and assured me that Bubba (which is what I'd been calling him) was just an ordinary cat. I refused when he offered to take the animal home so he could eat it. I'm almost positive that he hadn't been making a joke.

I had attended my first Sunday service at one of the three churches in town. For my first foray, I just chose the one with the prettiest building. That was one thing Scotland had no shortage of; beautiful old churches. The people were nice enough, and I met Rebecca Mowery, a hairdresser who owned her own beauty shop. I was sold as soon as she mentioned they have a tanning bed. Normally by this time a year my summer glow is well under way, but it was barely warm enough to be out in a just a sweater, let alone one of my bikinis.

I ended up hiring the vampire, and one of the half-demons who had just graduated from college. I had intended to hire a woman, both because I missed the professional companionship of Brenda and Holly, and as part of an unofficial affirmative action policy, but in the end the two I picked were the best candidates. Mintah was content. He said that with the vampire as part of the team, we might have more opportunity for direct recovery, which meant field work, which was thrilling. The subtext was that we would be glamouring our way in to other people's sites and removing anything supe-related straight from the source. I forced myself to ignore the moral greyness of that scenario and allowed excitement at the prospect.

When my vampire finally did make his appearance, it was in a blood red Jaguar convertible. I didn't think it was possible to get flashier than his old car, but he had managed it, and quickly, too! I was still pricing out Subaru's.

I let out a whistle of appreciation and started to walk towards the driveway, but he met me en route, lifting me clear off the ground for an amazing kiss. That just does not get old.

"What happened to the 'vette?" I asked, breathlessly.

"That is your first question?" he teased.

I shrugged with a smile.

"Bobby is selling the Corvette. I could never drive that here. Too American. This is a British car. It will fit in better."

Though he was grinning, I didn't get the impression that he was being ironic, so I just laughed.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"It's a great car, Eric. Come inside, I'll show you around."

Eric approved of the house, saying that it reminded him of a place he had once lived and also that it suited me. I talked about my work and he talked about vampires. He talked _a lot_ about vampires. I was aware that one of the reasons Eric liked me so much (and this was true for me of him as well) was the fact that he could speak freely without the risk of divulging supernatural top secrets. He might keep his personal plans close to the vest, but the everyday order of his world was something I understood, at least in theory. This was a whole 'nother level of sharing he was doing.

I heard all about King Walter and his courtiers. Where Sophie-Anne had been a sort of nebulous figure to fear and respect, Walter had an actual personality. He was gruff and blunt, almost to the point of being uncouth. He was incredibly shrewd, and didn't seem truck with the oblique duplicity that characterized the vampires Eric was used to dealing with.

"But that's good, isn't it? Isn't it better without the need to analyze everything you hear six layers deep?"

"It's difficult to trust it. What if I am being played?"

"What do the others in his court say?"

"They seem to be mostly the same. Some are not happy about our arrival, which is a given, but they do not bother to conceal it."

"So there's animosity?"

"To a degree. We are coming from America. The king chose to accept us with little to go on but the meeting with Pam and my reputation. Of course they want to know why we are _really_ here, if we pose a threat to their positions."

"That sounds very normal. It's like that with people in any situation; school, work..."

"It is normal. I have seen it often, but I am unaccustomed to being on the receiving end. I am still learning the ways and means of the vampires in this country, but soon enough I will adapt, and they will be more accepting of me."

I couldn't help but smile. In a human that would be considered an upbeat, can-do attitude. In Eric, it was just the quickest path to success, simple as that.

"Do you have a job or anything? Like how you used to make your vamps go to Fangtasia?"

"No. Well, obviously I would need to make myself available to the King and his Lords at any time, but so far there have been no direct requests. I have been appearing at the Court every evening until we are dismissed. I have had some more time to work on this manuscript, but for the most part I have been acclimating. I do have something important to tell you, however."

"Sure," I agreed.

"It pertains to one of the laws of this land. For reasons of population control, the King does not permit the vampires in his country to turn a human unless they have been residents of this country for ten years. This includes immigrants as well as those who are newly turned themselves."

"Okay."

"This does not concern you?"

"Why should it? I've told you, Eric, I don't want to be a vampire."

"But you may change your mind. In the next ten years, you may start to age."

"I should hope so," I scoffed, and then a shiver of doubt ran through me. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"It is not a problem for _me_, lover," he said, as if the possibility that he would like me any less once I started to wrinkle and wilt was preposterous. I could love him for that. I just hope he meant it. "But you may feel differently."

"I don't think so, but go ahead and ask me again in ten years. But not before then."

He answered by kissing my neck, which was not an answer at all, but I couldn't find it in me to mind at that moment. I'd been clear, and that was all there was to say on the subject.

Eric left with just enough time to make it back to Glasgow before dawn, promising to return in a day or two. I went with him to the door, but he paused when he opened it, and then shut it again abruptly.

"What's wrong?"

"There is dead animal on your doorstep."

"What? What kind of animal?"

He opened the door again and I peeked around to see that indeed there was a dead baby bunny on the slate.

"Is this some kind of warning?" Eric asked.

"I don't think so," I mused. "I'm pretty sure it's a housewarming present."

"Is this a custom among the fae? I have never heard of it."

"It's a custom among cats. There's one who lives around here somewhere. I've been feeding him. I named him Bubba."

Eric let out a laugh as if that were the most amusing thing he had ever heard.

"I don't understand what's funny about that."

"I will ask Pam to explain it. I must be going to beat the sun. Do you want me to move this?"

"I'll bury it in the morning. I don't want to offend him by just throwing it somewhere he'll find it."

I'd have to go and buy a shovel.

"You are very funny sometimes, my love."

"Thanks," I said, bemused. "Well go on then."

"Goodnight, my Sookie."

"Goodnight, Eric."

It was not until he had driven away that his words, or rather, word, registered with me. Had it been a slip? No, Eric didn't make slips. I decided to return the sentiment the next time I saw him. I'd known weeks and weeks ago that I could love him, and now that we were reunited, I was sure that I did.

A small black figure brushed against my ankle, and I leaned down to scratch my new cat under the chin.

"Thanks for the gift, Bub."

He purred a little, and then sauntered off into the night. I smiled after him and shut the door.

Hours later, I dug a shallow grave for Peter Cottontail back behind the house. It was a strange sort of Christening. _It just isn't _home_ until you've buried a body._ Well, it was now, and it felt like I belonged here.

_Things were going to be just fine_, I thought to myself.

Welcome home, Sookie Stackhouse.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading the story. I certainly enjoyed writing it.

**I have a couple of closing remarks...**

I'm sincerely grateful to Charlaine Harris for creating characters that I absolutely adore.

I'm incredibly thankful to have had FiniteAnarchy to beta this story - and by "beta" I don't just mean 'yes-woman pre-reader.' She's been a critical editor, a diligent resource both inside and outside of canon, a proofreader... and also a cheerleader and friend. As Sookie would say, I got _major lucky_ to connect with her. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

**I also have a couple of requests...**

I would really appreciate hearing from you about the story, now it's concluded. I'm open to critical feedback, be it technical or editorial, as well as the usual encouragements! I'd love to know what you thought of it, be it in the form of a review or a private message.

It would also be cool if those of you who really enjoyed the story would mark it as a favorite.

**And an announcement...**

You can find me on twitter at chicpea9, and I've made a new wordpress site with the same name. Links are on my profile page. You should definitely come follow me.


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